Hazy
by vanguard aria
Summary: Hazy. Living famously, she was able to become numb. A breath of fresh air might be the only saving grace she has.
1. Chapter 1: A Woman Walks Into a Club

"_It might be strange to you, the constant addition and revision of my thoughts onto something people will never see…but to me, it makes all of the sense in the world. When you can finally condense your thoughts into some semblance of sanity, that is when you start to feel at peace."_

The light pattering of keys still.

"_Maybe then I can start anew."_

* * *

Pounding bass became the constant, thick thread she became tied to. Each push and pull of the music had her moving through the crowd and into the calm solace of behind the booth. People jumped up and down, their beat rushing into your chest and filling out your arms and legs. No talking necessary, only the patchwork song needed to sooth their troubles until tomorrow. To her, it was perfection.

"Hey, DJ, you about finished? My shift is almost over," he called. She watched him queue up one more song before taking the other half of his headphones off. Nodding, she placed her own equipment over her ears and let the padded cocoon envelope her. Soon enough, the booth cleared into the kingdom. Her kingdom.

She felt like a chemist, each press of her fingers created a new reaction in the souls below her. If she pressed harder, they would jump until it hardly felt like defying gravity. If she let the melody wash around their heads, each wave felt aged and sophisticated. Within these moments, each second playing in their minds, it felt free. It felt new. It felt _wonderful._

"Bec?"

Less than a moment, a simple uttering left her empty.

"Yeah?" She asked, turning her head.

"Remember, you have a meet and greet in twenty minutes."

She sighed, letting her fingers create the combination used for a pause, a breath of air.

"Yeah, thanks." She said. Each syllable came out forced. Was it an hour already? The new glass of whiskey caught her attention; the beads of water running down the sides let her know it had been sitting there for a few minutes. _Thank god for CR. _Her fingers quickly created a cue, grabbed the whiskey, and delicately placed her headphones on the deck.

"Alright. Lets go."

The club wasn't anything special, just another venue that paid her to spin for a few hours. It was dark and loud, but still vibrant. Her legs walked on autopilot through the staff stairwells as CR took the lead, bringing her to a private room above the dance floor. CR kept talking, but between the muted bass and the whiskey occupying her mind, Beca quickly lost focus. Catching her manager's disapproving gaze, she gave a half shrug at being caught.

"Girl, I know you hate this as much as I hate _making_ you do this, but it's the price you pay for being good at your job."

Lifting her glass for another drink, Beca was severely disappointed to find only ice. "I know, C, I know. I'll try to play nice this time." Handing off the empty glass to her friend, Beca gave a wink before pushing open the metal door.

The private room was considerably brighter than the club space with a soft yellow light bathing the occupants. It had multiple leather couches with tables for bottle service, all of which were minimalist, all of which were occupied with countless A-listers, producers, and whoever they deemed worthy of attendance. Beca scoffed at the thought. It was always the same types of people, the ones who kissed ass, _her_ ass in this case, to take one step higher in the ranking. Each sly smile and wandering eyes defeated any professionalism left in their field. Thinking about spending more than a few seconds in this cigar infested room left Beca making a beeline to the bar.

"Whiskey. On the rocks." She said. "Please."

The bartender nodded and grabbed a fresh glass. Beca watched them work, running a haphazard hand through her hair before placing a hand on the dark wood surface. Her black nails tapped to the distant club as her mind became occupied with more ideas to finish her shift. The bartender, probably around his mid-twenties with a blonde pompadour, set a napkin on the counter before placing her drink down. The amber liquid danced like fire underneath the lights and she nodded her thanks. He hesitated, wiping his hands on the towel thrown over his shoulder. Beca raised her eyes from her glass before tipping it to her mouth.

"Miss…" he began but Beca quickly wiped her mouth before staring him down.

"Its Beca. Just Beca." He seemed to blanch before continuing.

"Well, Just Beca," he tried to chuckle, but it ended in his throat. "The group who won the meet and greet asked me to tell you they would be right back. I'm sorry."

A deep sigh left her chest as she swallowed the rest of her drink. Breathe in and out. _One…Two…soften your face…Three._ "Alright, thanks for letting me know."

The bartender looked visibly relieved at her calm reaction and went about filling up her now empty glass. She appreciated his dutiful care.

The air circulation in the private room was much better than downstairs and she felt her shirt sticking to her back. She checked the black and grey flannel to make sure her sleeves were still cuffed neatly before pushing them further up her arms. Her left hand rested against the drink before her other slipped into her jeans to find her phone. _11:42pm. Still early. _Her phone had a couple notifications, some from social media, most from her email. She opened up her texts and typed one out to CR.

**Beca: **You didn't tell me there was going to be a group.

**CR:** Would you have left the booth if I did?

Beca fought the urge to slam her head into the wood of the bar. _Breathe._ CR was right.

**CR:** You'll be okay. Just smile, laugh a little, take a picture or two, and you'll be done.

_Yes, it'll be okay. Breathe. _

A loud commotion from behind the main door made its way into Beca's mind. Mostly laughing, some stumbling, and now, cheering. Beca bristled slightly, but no one paid them any mind. Her fingers resumed tapping.

"Here." She looked up at the bartender when he gave her a double. She smiled a bit in gratitude. The group finally reached the door and a flood of women poured into the room; Beca counted around eight intoxicated and screaming girls before making the executive decision to finish her double and pray. _Breathe._ 8

"For god's sake, Fat Amy get off the floor!" She hears a shrill voice plead. Beca looks over to find a larger blonde laying on the ground. Her fake leather pants look far too tight to be comfortable as she rocks between her legs and back. Beca struggles to look away in morbid fascination.

"Listen, twig bitches," the girl pants, continuing her odd fight between gravity and will power. "Just because you're jealous of my art doesn't mean I shouldn't let all these dingoes enjoy it." Beca stares in abject horror at the mess before her. 'Fat Amy' continues to convulse on the ground while a tall and skinnier blonde desperately tries to pull her up. The other girls seem unphased, instead focusing on taking selfies, checking their phones, and heading to the bar.

"Hey, Mr. Bartender," a tall, busty brunette struts over. Her dark brown eyes are glassy, and her lips are painted red in a sinful smirk. Beca watches the bartender audibly gulp at the new arrival. She had to give it to the girl, the confidence dripping off of her was impressive. "What do you say we get some shots poured for me and my friends?" He quickly nodded and started to line up the glasses. The brunette shifted her focus from the bartender to the petite girl covered in tattoos and piercings. A spark of recognition lit behind the layers of smokey eyeshadow and false eyelashes before her face smoothly changed from seduction to pure delight. "Oh. My. Aca. Gods!"

Beca has been in this business for a few years. She is familiar with the fans and spontaneous happenings that come paired with drugs and alcohol. Tonight, however, has left her stripped of any level of preparedness. The absolute absurdity of the group in front of her ruined any structure or plan to get through this meet and greet unscathed.

"You're Bec!" She says, desperately trying to hush her voice, but the obvious effects of alcohol limit her success. Beca tips her head, doing her best to force a smile. The girl in front of her is bouncing with excitement and Beca has to avert her eyes from the display of her breasts about to pop out of her barely there dress.

"Yeah, you can call me Beca though. Bec is just for marketing purposes."

The girl starts to squeal before launching into a string of sentences Beca doesn't quite understand; what she does understand is that the girl suddenly looped their arms together and is dragging her across the room to her friends. Beca struggles to move her legs to prevent any intimacy with the floor. For how intoxicated she seemed, this girl was incredibly strong.

"Girls! Look who I found!" she squeals (there isn't a better way to describe the shrill excitement). What was even worse for Beca is that they all shrieked with matching enthusiasm. _Jesus._

"Hey everyone, I'm Beca. Thanks for coming out tonight." She desperately tries to restore order to her night as she finally addresses the contest winners. The girls introduce themselves around the group and Beca does her best to remember each name to the face, however, the multiple glasses of whiskey were beginning to catch up to her. Stacie was the seductress in red, Flo was a Hispanic girl with a thick accent, Fat Amy needed no further introduction, and two girls Beca couldn't figure out which one was Jessica and which one was Ashely. The taller blonde was named Aubrey (Beca didn't like her attitude) and there were two more in the back who she couldn't hear over the sound of the other guests.

"We are waiting on one more to arrive, but after she gets here, we can take a picture!" Aubrey says to Beca, her eyes looking past her nose when explaining in as polite a voice as her pained entitlement could allow. _What is her deal?_ Beca nods her head in understanding before taking a seat on the couch. The rest of the girls follow and arrange themselves sporadically around the DJ. This was at least the easy part. Beca just had to politely nod her head and look engaged for her job to work. The alcohol was beginning to do its part as well, so the night wasn't completely doomed. The girls chatted about trivial things (Stacie was finishing her rotations as a doctor, Aubrey was a 'successful' lawyer, Jessica/Ashely owned a florist business together, Flo declined to comment in fear of 'legal reasons') and Beca refused to admit she wasn't hating their company.

"So," Stacie says and deep within her chocolate eyes was a spark of something mischievous. "What can I do to convince you to take a shot with us?" The rest of the girls brighten in anticipation and Beca feels their eyes boring into her body. "We already ordered one for you so…"

Beca sighed before checking her phone again. _12:16am_. She still had to finish her set in less than an hour with multiple glasses of whiskey in her system. One more couldn't hurt, right?

"No convincing needed. Just one, though. I still have to work."

The girls cheered, all clambering to the bar. Each took a shot glass full of tequila and a lime. Stacie handed Beca hers with a wink and stood beside Aubrey, all eyes on her for the countdown.

"Alright ladies!" She yelled, holding her glass in the air. "To our guest of honor, Beca, and to getting white girl wasted! Sorry Flo."

"It's okay, I identify as white."

"3…2..1!"

The girls quickly slammed the shot back before sucking on the lime. Jessica and Ashely both puckered their lips, laughing at catching the other doing the same expression. Lily, a silent Asian girl, seemed to have swallowed the lime whole. Aubrey politely dabbed her lips with a napkin before using her camera to fix her lipstick. Beca quietly observed the different mannerisms of the girls and shared a silent chuckle. She set her glass down on the bar and excusing herself to the bathroom. The alcohol flooded her mind and the short walk felt weighted with effort. She took a deep breath and felt the smokey air fill her lungs before pushing open the door.

The private bathroom was empty and lit with soft gold and warm wood. Beca willed her leaded legs to the sink and lifted her swirling grey eyes, lined with ink, into the mirror. Her right arm raised through the intoxicated haze to turn the sink on; she cupped her hands, allowing the cold faucet to pour into them and she splashed some on her face. The cold water touched her skin and her nerves snapped back into reality. Her palms rested upon the cool counter and she took a grounded second. _Breathe_.

"I can't keep doing this, Tom. I can't." Beca hears the door open and her eyes snap to the newest figure in the mirror. A woman with fiery tendrils and freckled skin enters the bathroom and shuts the door, one hand holding her phone to her ear and the other running a hand through amber waves that cascade over her bare shoulders. Her baby blue off the shoulder blouse flowed with each movement and Beca thought she could be underwater with how lyrical she moved. Beca splashed another handful of water onto her cheeks. She slowly raised her head and was met with crystalline blue eyes boring into her. _Oh, wow._

"Yeah, yeah, I'm still here," the woman spoke. A man's raised voice echoed from the phone and into the bathroom. The woman pulled the phone from her ear and heaved a sigh before offering a tight smile to Beca. "Men." She mouthed. Beca scoffed and smiled back, grabbing paper towels and dabbing her face dry.

"Seems like you could use a drink." Beca commented wryly. The woman gave her a quick once over and Beca's skin crawled under such strict scrutiny, her eyes sliding over the curves underneath her flannel. She was beginning to regret opening her mouth. The woman's attention finally rested upon Beca's face and she could see the conflict swimming within bright blue eyes, her phone still resting by her side. The moment she made her decision, her finger hit the red button and ended the call.

"You would be correct." Her voice was feather-light, dancing like a flame and pleasant. Beca nodded her head before straightening her back to return to the bar. As she passed the woman, a gentle hand gripped Beca's bicep, halting all further motion. "Vodka-cran, double." There were mere inches between them, but Beca felt suffocated by the intimacy this woman exuded. _Breathe. She's harmless._

Beca nodded and vacated the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2: The Uninvited

**Author's Note:**

Hey everyone! A huge thank you to the great support I've received for this fic. It's my first full length and any feedback is greatly appreciated. Drop a comment, favorite, follow, whatever. I really really look forward to going on this journey with you!

-Vanguard.

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing from Pitch Perfect or their franchise. I'm just a college student with an idea.

* * *

**Chapter Two: The Uninvited**

* * *

_Looking back now, there were all of these colorful flags I made the decision to ignore. Being as blind as I was, everything became a rainbow, but my eyes have been stripped of the tattered ribbons into a world of blacks and whites. This isn't a complaint of monotony, only an acknowledgment of how things have changed and how the grass is no longer greener, only grey._

* * *

After squeezing past and cutting through the group of intoxicated ladies, Beca finally made it to the bar. The bartender took one look at Beca and dropped what he was doing in favor of servicing the DJ. In the few minutes Beca had been excused, his blonde hair had lost its meticulous style and fallen, pasted to his forehead. _These girls must have done a number on him_.

"Hey man, take a breather. Everything's alright. Can I get a vodka cranberry, double?"

He took a centering breath, nodded his thanks, and went about his work. Beca took this as a sign to relax and let the man do his job. She leaned her hip against the bar and pulled her phone out again. _12:34am_.

**CR:** Start sobering up, Bec. You have a show to do.

**Beca:** Just for that, I'm taking another shot.

"So, where's my drink, rockstar?"

Beca looked up from her phone to find the redheaded woman sidle up opposite of her. She looked less distressed than when she was on the phone which was a good sign. Her big, blue eyes still had the deep, tired lines, however. They had the ungodly power to bore into Beca and leave her feeling totally stripped. She hated it.

"Coming right up, groupie," Beca smirked back before turning her attention back to her phone. The redhead coughed loudly. Beca ignored her and continued to tap out an email to her producer. Another cough. Her fingers didn't stop typing. Another cough sounded before Beca finally tilted up with a raised brow.

"Isn't it a bit_ rude_ to ignore your guests of honor?"

Beca looked up, startled. "I am so sorry, I thought you were someone different. You weren't here in the original group, I would have noticed," Beca hurried to her own defense, but immediately regretted it. The redhead looked positively _enthralled_ by her choice in words.

"Oh, so you would have noticed me?"

Beca was hitting herself internally. She had to fix this and fix it fast. "Yeah, redhead and all…" she motioned to her hair. Thankfully, the bartender had finished her drink and placed it on the bartop. Beca quickly picked it up and handed it to the woman. "Here you are, as promised. Vodka-Cran, double." The woman gently took it from Beca's hands and wrapped pink lips around the thin straw. She hummed in delight before setting the drink down onto the napkin.

"Alright ladies! Since we are _finally _all here," Aubrey said, sending a dirty look towards Beca and the redhead, "let's take a picture!" Aubrey began corralling the drunk group to stand by the balcony overlooking the dancefloor. Beca glanced around for someone to be the photographer, her eyes landing on CR who was involved in a very intense game of virtual CupPong.

"Yo, C!" Beca yelled, walking over to the pink-haired manager. "Can you be a pal and take a picture of these beautiful ladies for me?" CR took one look at Beca, rolled her eyes, before pocketing her phone and following the DJ to the group. Aubrey handed CR her phone and Beca stood in the middle, waiting for the girls to situate themselves around her. The space around Beca kept getting smaller and smaller and CR looked at Beca with all the sympathy she could without pouting. _Hurry_, Beca mouthed.

"Okay, ladies, count of three say Bec! One, two, three!" A chorus of Bec's filled the air and CR snapped the photo. She handed Aubrey her phone and walked over to Beca, putting a hand on her shoulder and leaning up to her ear.

"You have a few more minutes up here until you need to finish your set. You know the drill." Beca nodded and pushed a few stray hairs from her face. She only had a few more minutes and then she could do what she loved and go home. She could do this.

"Alright ladies, it was awesome getting to know you all, but unfortunately I have to go back to the booth and finish the night. You are more than welcome to chill up here and enjoy the bottle service as well as kick it on the dance floor with me. Be safe and enjoy the rest of your night!" Beca's goodbye was met with loud protests, all begging her to stay longer and party more.

"Chloe just got here! Is there anyway you can stay just a _little_ bit longer?" Stacie asked, jutting out her bottom lip and pushing her breasts together. Beca sighed, doing her best to school her face into neutrality.

"I'm sorry, Stacie, but I have to go back and spin. My queue isn't long enough to chill up here much longer."

Stacie paused, looking defeated for a beat, before her eyes lit up in a way Beca now recognized to be dangerous.

"Maybe…" she drawled, walking to the DJ, "you could take us with you?"

_Oh no._

"Stacie's right, Bec! Chloe hasn't had the chance to hang out, yet. It's only fair." Aubrey wholeheartedly agreed with Stacie, and to Beca, that was the most shocking thing of the night. _Where the _fuck_ is CR?_

"Surely that isn't a problem, right?"

If Stacie wasn't as charismatic, Beca would have immediately declined. Unfortunately for the DJ, she had ten eyes and a pair of tits begging her to say yes.

_For fuck's sake. _

"I guess a few minutes in the booth wouldn't hurt."

A resulting scream of celebration instantly made Beca want to jump off the balcony. Everything about this arrangement screamed bad idea and Beca did _not _want to be caught in the middle of it. Her eyes glanced around the room, desperately seeking out CR, but was left empty and abandoned. _Fuck. _Beca checked her phone for the time and saw that she had seven minutes until she needed to go downstairs. Seven minutes to either a) disappear from the face of the earth, b) commit an act of mass murder, or c) get drunk.

_Get drunk. _

"Alright, alright, how about we get some drinks flowing before we head down? Sound good?" Beca headed over to the bar for the upteenth time that night and, as politely as she could quickly, asked for another round of shots. The bartender (who she regretted not knowing his name by now) smiled and went about his order. Beca reached into her wallet and placed a generous tip next to his service station. _Thank you, you beautiful bastard. _

Each girl took their shot, gathered their belongings, and waited for Beca to lead the way. Each beat of her heart pounded into her ribs and tattooed the apprehension seeping into her being. Everyone looked so carefree, so excited, how could she possibly refuse it? She would be death of the party. Her label simply would _not_ allow it. She took her shot (what was it, seven now?) and once again ran a hand through her hair in an effort to comb away the chaos of the night. The alcohol running through her veins sent a pleasant, warm humming throughout her tense body. Her cheeks were warming slightly, the blood rushing to her face to color her red. _I'm the same color as the redhead,_ she mused.

"Alright, time to head out. Everyone settled?" Beca did a quick glance around the group and everything seemed to be in order, at least this 'order' was their own special type. Fat Amy was grabbing as many bottles of champagne as her hands could carry, Lily was missing, and Aubrey was too invested in her emails to chaperone the rest of the group. But as soon as Beca landed on the redhead (_Chloe?_) their eyes met. Beca felt something heavy shift in her chest, the blatant staring into her eyes was unexpected and unsettling. The heaviness changed into thick walls of defenses, the bars keeping this group of ladies at bay and ultimately saving Beca the headache of taking care of them. It was time to do her job-not babysit grown ass women. She found a new resolve and began the treacherous journey from upstairs to down. _Head up, chin down, one step at a time. Breathe._

"Too..many...stairs…" Fat Amy panted, her body sliding against the wall in an effort to remain upright. Jessica and Ashely did their best to drag her body to keep her moving. Beca had a feeling once she stopped she wouldn't move for the rest of the night. _Ignore it. Keep walking._

They finally reached the bottom. Beca hung a left and entered the door which led to the inside of the club. The music was considerably louder and the air was hotter and stickier than the private room. It felt like hitting a wall of blistering, thick sound; it was oddly consuming and overwhelming, but, Beca having done this thousands of times, was able to fight her way through the sensation in order to work. The tunnel vision took over, her private kingdom of noise was steps away. Things were okay._ She _was okay. She stepped into the booth and her lungs released a weighted breath she forgot she was holding. _Alright. Showtime._

Beca laced her hands together to crack her knuckles before picking up her headphones. The padded headband was wasting away from years of use, but the red hardware still glowed brightly in the flashing lights. The cups around the ears weren't nearly as padded as they used to be, but she wore them down, and nothing felt more secure than when she placed the cup around her ear and the music washed her mind like a cleansing rain. Her laptop screen fired into life and she began to view the waves of songs she needed to mold. Each strand corresponded to something alike, but never exact, and _this_ was why she was the best in the business. No one could view music like she could.

"This is so exciting!" she heard one of the girls say. The booth was cramped and Beca was momentarily pulled from her reverie and into the borderline claustrophobic space. _Don't think about it. Keep mixing._ She shook her head clear and continued her magic. The dance floor was electric: a huge crowd, pulsing lights, and bass all fed into each twitch of her fingers. Her head bobbed along to the beat playing through her headphones while her fingers mechanically slid each dial and knob into what would become the next dance chart-topper.

"How do you do that?" a voice spoke behind her. Beca turned around to see the redhead again, her eyes alight with curiosity and excitement. The bright blue outshined all of the colored strobes in the club combined. Chloe held her drink in her hand, but had barely even made a dent when Beca first gave it to her. This was one sober human being taking genuine interest in her craft.

"How do I do what, exactly?" Beca asked, devoid of attitude and purely interested in what she wanted to know. No one has asked before, but then again, no one has really had an opportunity to.

"How do you know what to do? Like which buttons to press and what song to pick?"

Beca chuckled and slipped the other half of her headphones off, letting them rest around her neck. She gestured for Chloe to come closer, giving her more accessibility to her deck. "Well," Beca began, "I started in high school and familiarized myself with the equipment, but other than knowing where everything is located, it just sort of...happens." Chloe nodded her head, listening intently to her words. She pursed her lips in thought, her eyes burning with the question she is debating on asking. "You can ask, I won't bite."

"Would you...Would I be able to-"

"You want to try?"

Chloe looked up, her timid approach melting away in favor of surprise. Beca shrugged her shoulders, offering a tiny side-smile as her only response.

"Call it the V.I.P. experience with Bec," she winked, taking a step to the side to allow Chloe more room in front of the booth. Chloe looked baffled and seemed stuck in shock before her feet caught up with her brain to take the spot next to the DJ. The smile that found a home on her face was contagious. For the first time that night, Beca gave a genuine, albeit tight, smile.

"You should smile more," Chloe said, but quickly covered her mouth with a manicured hand. Beca laughed, a full bodied laugh, before placing her headphones around Chloe's neck. She heard Stacie give a wolfish whistle at this. Beca held up her right middle finger for her to see, and then proceeded to explain to Chloe what each instrument did. Chloe, the good apprentice, listened intently, nodding every so often, and gave Beca her undivided attention. Beca had to admit, teaching her was kind of fun. Kind of.

"Now this button right here? It has a looped effect; everytime you press it, it'll play back the sound over whatever base track you have. Press it when I tell you to. 3..2..1..go!" Chloe squeaked and eagerly pressed the button. The resulting look of pride and joy on Chloe's face had Beca excited, too. _Who is this woman? _

"Hey, DJ! It's last call for you. Finish up your set and then you're free to go." CR raised a brow at Chloe mixing, but didn't comment. She knew better than to question Beca's decisions, even the most arguable.

"Heard that, Bossman," Beca called back. Chloe took the headphones off and placed them into Beca's hand. She nodded her thanks before grabbing the mic. "This is DJ Bec signing off. Keep the party goin' and see you next time. Peace!"

The girls in the booth cheered, all clapping and praising Beca and her talent. It felt nice; she wasn't used to genuine people like these wonderful, although cooky, women. Soaking up their positivity, she made a decision._ I'm gonna regret this._

"How would you all like to hit the after party at my place?"


	3. Chapter 3: Honey, I'm Home

**AN: Content Warning: Recreational Drug Use, Language, and Consumption of Alcohol. **

**Let me know what you guys think, I really appreciate the feedback! Enjoy!**

**-Vanguard**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything in the PP franchise. **

* * *

**Chapter 3: Honey, I'm Home**

Wrangling all of the girls to Beca's chauffeur turned out to be literal; Fat Amy fought quite the battle, multiple bouncers having to drag her intoxicated form from inside the club to the alley while the rest of the girls stumbled in their heels, all the while avoiding dumpsters. Beca sighed heavily, hoisting her bags of equipment into the trunk of the black Cadillac Escalade. Her driver, Marques, held open the door for all the ladies to pile into the back. He was an older gentleman from the French Quarter who Beca thought highly of; his black suit was always crisp, and his smile was always bright. She liked him so much she contracted him to be her permanent driver.

"Good evenin' Miz Mitchell," he greeted, taking her duffle bag and finishing storing it with the rest of her gear. Beca gave him one of her softer smiles and offered a fist bump. He chuckled before awkwardly hitting his fist against hers.

"How's your night been, Marques?" Beca asked, climbing into the passenger side of the vehicle. Marques let out a long whistle, walking around the front of the car to the driver's side.

"Well, I can't complain, miz. Seems like you's got a long night aheada ya."

"We're fucked up!" Stacie screamed from the back. Beca was beginning to realize how poorly her judgement becomes once she's intoxicated. Marques just laughed, his eyes never straying from the road. For being as late as it was, LA traffic was still horrendous, but Marques navigated it with dexterity and precision. Every turn was gentle and smooth, and he had the uncanny ability to project his calm demeanor into his driving. The chaos that is downtown Los Angeles lost its edge and became a dull throb of annoyance. They arrived at Beca's penthouse faster than an Uber which Beca was grateful for due to multiple reasons, the most pressing being the fact that Fat Amy stole at least three bottles of champagne and was threatening to pour them all over her backseat.

"Okay, we're here, please get out of the car," Beca said, returning to the boot to grab her stuff. It felt like watching a clown car, all of the girls hopping out in the parking garage of the complex. The majority of them took their heels off in the car and were holding them in their hands. Chloe and Aubrey were by far the most composed of the group, keeping their shoes on and helping different girls by keeping them steady or adjusting their outfits. Beca rolled her eyes, shouldering her bags before giving Marques a goodbye.

"Have a safe night, Miz Mitchell," Marques drawled, tipping his head.

"Tell your wife and daughter I say hello," she replied, giving a small wave with her free hand. He nodded his head in thanks before getting into the car and driving off.

"He seems like a real charmer," Chloe comments, walking at her left side. Beca sneaks a peak from the corner of her eye but doesn't turn her head.

"Yeah, he's a good man. A real good man."

Chloe nods her head in agreement, closing her mouth for a moment of pensive silence.

It didn't last long.

"How long has he been your driver?"

Beca's eyebrow twitched with annoyance. "About a year." She holds up her keys to the sensor and is granted access into the building. She ushers everyone in, but Chloe stayed with Beca.

"Do you live alone?"

"Uh, yeah. For the most part." Beca's grey eyes narrowed, but she didn't add on. She hit the elevator button and slid her card to unlock the 18th floor. The girls began to giggle in excitement at being in a private elevator with a famous musician. Despite their genuine nature, they still couldn't get over the fact that they were with_ Bec._

"So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Fat Amy says, "But I need to use the little Sheila's room."

"Why is that bad news, Amy?" Aubrey asks, pocketing her phone for what seemed like the first time that night.

"Well," Her eyes shifted, and she drew the word out, pulling each 'L' as it were stuck to her lips.

"Well _what_, Amy," Aubrey reiterates. Beca anxiously waits for the elevator to ding with the arrival of her floor, her fingers tapping against the strap of her bag. _Breathe._

"Oh look, we're here!" Beca loudly announces, startling some of the occupants. She immediately exits the elevator and throws her cases on the island of her kitchen. The rest of the girls follow, excited to be in a penthouse overlooking the city of Los Angeles. The floor to ceiling windows allows the dazzling lights to appear like stars, the smog of the city blurring them to a serene constellation. Beca shows Amy to the half bath and returned to the kitchen.

"Oh, wow," Chloe breathes, stepping into the living room and gazing at the view. She places a hand at her chest and momentarily forgets how to breathe.

"You play piano?" Stacie asks, running her hand on the lid of the black, grand piano at the right of the room. Beca nods her head and rummages through a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Yeah, I learned in grade school. I've been playing since I was 6."

Multiple gasps circle around the room. Beca just stares at them, clutching the bottle of whiskey in her hand. Chloe stares at her, eyeing the bottle in her hands before turning her attention back out to the window.

"You have been playing for that long? Why don't you use it in any of your songs?" Stacie asks, borderline screaming, but attempting to reign in her disbelief.

"I mean, I do, it's just not deliberate," Beca defends, pulling a glass from her sink. She pours herself a drink and opens the doors to her balcony. Filling her lungs with the night air, she sips her whiskey and allows her muscles to loosen to a state of contentment. The air lacked humidity and warmth, but it wasn't quite cold. The sweat beading on her skin felt pleasantly cooled in the November air, and for the first time that night, she felt tired.

"This view is something else."

Beca looks over at Chloe, sipping her drink and focusing back on her galaxy.

"Thank you for having us over," she says, her head focusing on the DJ. Beca just looks out past the railing. Chloe sighs before doing the same. Their elbows lightly rest against the rail, Beca drinking from her whiskey and Chloe sneaking glances at the musician from the corner of her blue eyes. This didn't go unnoticed and after about the fifth glance, Beca finally turned to look at her.

"Is there something I can help you with, Red?"

"Another drink?" She smiles shyly and looks up through her lashes in an adorably natural way. _No. Not adorable. _Beca sighs and sets her glass down before entering the apartment again. The rest of the girls passed out on the couches, clothing and shoes tossed all over the tidy living area. She stepped through the minefield of strangers to open her liquor cabinet and pour her conscious guest another drink (Vodka-Cran, double). On the way out to the balcony, Beca grabbed a cigar box resting on the mantle of her fireplace. She opens the door with her foot, her left hand holding a highball glass, and her right tucking the box underneath her armpit.

"As promised," Beca says dryly. Chloe giggles and gingerly takes the glass from Beca's possession. She glances back inside to see the women still asleep. Amy looked to be cuddling her Grammy's. _I'll deal with that in the morning. _

"So, Mr. Rockstar, what's in the box?"

Beca sits down in a patio chair and places the box on a glass table to her side. Lifting the lid, she takes out rolling papers and a mason jar. She unscrews the lid and is assaulted with the smell of marijuana. "Weed." She answers plainly. With the precision and experience of a rapper, she rolls a joint and places it between her lips. The flick of a lighter casts an orange glow across the bridge of her nose and ignites the end of the paper. One long drag and one long exhale. The smoke filled the air, Beca slowly making o's appear to capture a star. "You smoke, Red?"

She shakes her head, taking a seat in the opposite chair and crossing her legs, right over left. Lifting the glass to her mouth, she takes a small sip of the red drink, careful not to spill any on her white pants. She watches the DJ inhale, the end of the joint sparking brightly to disappear in the clouds of smoke. Each breathe that fills her lungs is tainted with the smell and smoke of the night.

"That's a damn shame," Beca says.

"Why's that, DJ?"

"Coulda used a smoking partner."

Chloe looks at her thoughtfully, pursing her lips and resting her head against two fingers held to her temple. Beca casts a sideways glance at her, pulling the joint from her mouth and balancing it between two fingers. The redhead then reaches out, pulls the joint from the DJ's fingers, and takes a hit.

"Thought you said you didn't smoke," Beca comments, watching her with interest and mapping out each movement. Chloe looks at her, blowing the smoke back into the brunette's face with a smirk. Beca lets out a full bellied laugh when her calm and collected facade crumbles into a heavy cough.

"I said I didn't," she wheezes out, "not that I wouldn't."

Beca nods her respect before gently pulling the joint from her hand. "Am I corrupting you, Red?"

"Can't corrupt me if I've already done it, DJ," she winks before grinning cheekily.

"Smoking pot _once _in high school hardly counts if that is what your example is."

Chloe visibly deflates and Beca laughs again. She takes another drag before offering the spliff to the redhead. She takes it, placing it between her lips. Her hit was much smaller this time. Beca smirks at her and she swore she saw the faintest blush coloring her cheeks. _Don't be ridiculous. _

"Thank you."

Beca looks at her, quirking a brow. Her grey eyes swirled with confusion and were starting to become cloudy with intoxication. "For what, Red?" Her voice comes out rough and gravely; she lets out a cough to try and clear her throat unsuccessfully, causing her to take a large swig of whiskey to rinse her mouth and effectively calm her throat.

"For everything tonight. You've been keeping me hydrated, let me DJ in a hot club, and smoked me out. Tonight has been the most fun I've had in a while." The vulnerability in her eyes made Beca extremely uncomfortable. The diamond blues were glazed, yet they never lost their vibrant stare.

"Kinda sad, if you ask me." She deflects the intimate conversation in the best way she knows how: biting remarks and forced isolation.

"We all can't party for a living." Beca scoffs at her, using the heel of her converse to kill the joint.

"My life isn't one big _fiesta_, babe." Chloe replies with a haughty laugh, setting her glass down with more force necessary.

"Oh, really? Because that's_ exactly_ what it looks like to me."

Beca stands up abruptly and stares Chloe down, her shoulders squared and tense. The grey of her eyes darkened and melted into her dilated pupils.

"You have_ no_ place to make accusations as a _guest_ in _my_ home. Tread carefully, Red. My patience and generosity have their limits."

Chloe stands up to match Beca's posture, realizing that though she towers over the brunette, the sharpness of her gaze was unmatched. Her stubborn nature outweighed her desire to cower, and Chloe met Beca's fierce gaze with a fire of her own. She takes a step forward and draws her full height. Beca takes a step back to ensure there is space between them.

"I have a name you know. Maybe if you weren't so busy getting drunk you would have learned it by now," Chloe bites out. The only thing Beca does is laugh, her head falling back and her hands running through her hair.

"Sweetheart, the only reason you know my name is because it's written at the top of every chart, every radio station, and every fucking playlist. You wouldn't give a single _fuck_ if it wasn't." She bites out every syllable, but the redhead met her gaze head on and refused to backdown. Chloe takes yet another step forward for Beca to take one step back. They were locked in a dance of will, each participant waiting for the other to fatally misstep.

"You're an ass!"

Another step.

"And you're just another redhead from a bottle."

She gasped. "How _dare _you!"

Both of their chests were heaving. _When did she get so close?_

Chloe was inches away to the point their breaths were mixing together. Beca's eyes snapped to find bright blue underneath a curtain of thick lashes. A quick glance down to pink lips, parted from the passion of their feud. Beca looked back up and was startled to find Chloe looking back. Seconds ticked by, but a vacuum was created where time couldn't touch them. _Wait, what is she doing? _Chloe was getting closer. Beca could feel how hot her breath was on her lips. She looked at her lips and how they seemed to inch closer and closer. Her eyes drifted shut.

"Hey sexy, I'm bac-_what the fuck_?!"

_Oh. Fuck. Me. _


	4. Chapter 4: For This Life I Cannot Change

**AN: **Sorry for the delay with this chapter everyone. Things have been a little wild on my end. Let me know what you think! Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything within the PP franchise.

**Potential TW: Use of prescription drugs and brief** **mention of suicide.**

* * *

**Chapter Four: For This Life, I Cannot Change**

* * *

_Each word carries the weight of a fragment of my soul. Piece them together, stitch by stitch, and suddenly my heart is sewn to my sleeve. But it is within this life that I burned away the thread with a flame to light what helps those to forget. But it is within this life that I seek to numb, to 'un-feel' what I do with countless poisons and dazed nights. But it is within this life where my isolation became my only companion. But it is within this life that my addictions live free and run rampant. And for this life, I cannot change._

* * *

This was a dream. One big, terrible, nightmare of a dream. Any second, she'll wake up hungover with an extreme desire to disappear into her sheets.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me, Rebecca."

Alternate option: she's dead and the newest resident in Hell.

"It's not what you think!" Chloe quickly jumps away and ends up knocking their drinks off the table. Glass fractures and the shards scatter. The rest of the girls start to stir, blinking confusedly into life.

A tall woman with golden hair stood in the entryway. She wore a white blouse and form fitting blue jeans that ended in a pair of red-bottomed heels. Her skin was pale and unblemished but was beginning to flush in the cheeks of her face. Her eyes, bright green, were narrowed as her hands formed tightly clenched fists. She had quickly disposed of her designer handbag in the kitchen. It looked to have been thrown. Beca rushes into the living and Chloe was at her heels.

"Ana, please, I swear to god-"

"Don't _Ana_ me right now-"

"I promise it's not what you think!"

Chloe, along with the rest of the girls, kept glancing back and forth at the two women locked in a passionate argument. Stacie was grinning wildly at the unexpected entertainment while Aubrey rolled her eyes and returned to her phone. Somehow Beca's hair became even crazier and her eyes were much more tired than Chloe remembers seeing. Her shoulders were rigid in a posture that screamed exhaustion.

"Please," she begs quietly, "let me explain."

The blonde glares at her, green eyes burning. "You have thirty seconds."

"We were in an argument when you walked in, I swear."

"We were," Chloe agrees, but quickly shuts up at the resulting stare from the blonde. The redhead chuckles nervously and glances at Aubrey. She finds no help.

"And who exactly might you be?" Ana's attention is now focused solely on Chloe. Her head tilts slightly to the right, similar to a cat. Unfortunately for Chloe, she was the prey. Chloe only lifts her chin. Her stubborn-will overpowering any urge to turn away.

"I could ask the same thing to you, sweetheart."

_Oh no._

Ana laughs haughtily, flipping long, yellow hair over her shoulder. Her nails were manicured and styled meticulously with lilac paint. Gold charm bracelets danced around her wrist as she placed her hand on her hip.

"Ladies, come on, let's sit down like adults-"

"I'm Anastasia fucking Kelley, and you are?"

"Seriously, please stop-"

"I'm Chloe fucking Beale, pleased to make your _lovely_ acquaintance," Chloe smiled sweetly.

"STOP."

The volume Beca produced shocked the room and all eyes finally rested on her.

_Breathe. Just breathe. It's fine. You're fine. _

The air was sucked from her lungs. Her heart beat a fast staccato. She desperately clawed at something,_ anything _other than this feeling. The room was spinning. _No, it's not. _She can't feel her hands. _Yes, you can. _Everyone is staring. _Yes, they are._

"What the hell, Beca?" Ana says. She doesn't get a response. "Um, earth to Beca?" She snaps her fingers. Again, no response. The blood had drained from the DJ's already pale face. Alarm bells start going off in Chloe's head.

"She's having a panic attack, jackass." Chloe realizes, running to Beca's side and gently pushing her to sit down on the couch. Beca's eyes are wide and unfocused, the storming grey swirling in chaos. Her chest heaves as an unseen weight prevents her lungs from filling. Chloe takes Beca's wrist softly in her hand and checks her pulse.

"Aubrey, can you please go to the kitchen and get me a damp rag?" Aubrey nods and does as she was asked.

"I don't know why you're losing your shit over her, she does this all the time," Anastasia says. The rest of the room stares at her. Chloe takes the cool rag from Aubrey and delicately wipes Beca's forehead and neck. She shakes under the gentle touch.

"Do you know if she has any medication she needs?" Stacie asks, calmly placing a hand on Chloe's shoulder as a sign of help.

"Jesus, she's_ fine_. She'll just pop a Xanax later and sleep it off."

"Okay, I know I just met Beca tonight, but who even are you?" Aubrey says, disbelief and disgust washing over her defined features. The apathy rolling off the other blonde was sickening to experience. Anastasia rolls her eyes.

Beca is still shaking, but her eyes lost the wild and frantic glaze. Stacie enters the kitchen to grab a glass of water, the clinking of each glass filling the tense and quiet air. Chloe rubs small circles on Beca's back, whispering how she's okay, that she's safe. Minutes pass and finally the panic passes. Slow blinking eyes come into focus and one long, shaky breath slips past chapped lips. Chloe smiles in encouragement, continuing her steady rubbing. Stacie returns with the glass of water and hands it to the brunette. She takes it, her hands unsteadily grasping the cold glass to slowly bring it to her lips. The water, clean and crisp, is grounding for Beca. She sips it, eyes never leaving the floor. She can feel each of their stares burning holes into her chest.

"Thank you all for coming. I think it's best if you all left. I'm sorry," she rasps, placing the glass on the wood floor and meeting their eyes, some concerned, one particular pair of blues swimming with worry.

"I don't know about you acabitches, but there is too much estrogen in this pussy pool. I'm off to find some T for some D," Fat Amy said, ignoring the multiple cringing faces to make her disastrous exit. One by one, the girls took their leave. The last ones in the apartment were Stacie, Aubrey, Chloe, Beca, and Ana. The air held the tension like a sponge takes to water; it was leaking into Beca and filling her with apprehension. Her anxiety was beginning to build yet again.

"Breathe," Chloe whispers softly. Her gentle touch continued the dutiful comfort._ Breathe._ "Is there anything I can get you?" Beca shakes her head. She remains quiet; gathering her thoughts was proving to be much harder than before. The scrambled, frantic, racing of her mind was destroying whatever was left of her high. She couldn't tell if she was swimming in anxiety or swimming in booze. Either way, any form of clarity seemed too far to reach.

"Maybe you should head to bed, Bec," Stacie suggested. A polite nod was all she received.

"Just leave her be, she'll be alright. I've got it covered," Chloe softly said, her eyes finding Aubrey's with a light smile. Stacie and Aubrey looked hesitant, but trusted her judgement.

"What do you mean 'have it covered'? You're all leaving," Anastasia spoke, setting her phone down and once again fixing a stoney gaze at the intruders. Beca gave a shaky laugh and stood up, wavering for the shortest of seconds before steadying. Chloe attempted to place sure, unshaking hands on Beca's shoulders but was brushed from any contact.

"I don't give a shit who stays or who leaves. I'm going to bed." Her eyes were tired but firm in her decision. Stacie, Aubrey, and Chloe internally sighed, knowing she needed to rest. Anastasia, however, was beginning to glow red in her cheeks.

"Rebecca, you cannot be serious."

Beca's exhaustion won over any frustration boiling inside her chest. "Honestly, Anastasia, I don't give a single, flying fuck what you think. Either stay and shut up or get out. End of discussion. Goodnight." Each step she took up the stairs echoed in the silent and charged air. Anastasia huffed, grabbed her bag and stormed out. A burning stare was all that remained after the door slammed shut. Chloe breathed her first relief since the night took such a drastic turn. Aubrey and Stacie gave her a quiet goodbye before showing themselves out. With everyone gone, Chloe quietly stood by the stairs. She debated leaving, she truly did, but she couldn't leave the rude DJ. Not when she could overdose. So she went up the stairs.

The hallway was dark and plain, hardwood floors and plain grey walls. There were multiple doors, all but one was closed. Chloe took this as a sign the only remaining occupant was inside. Her hand touched the wall, her fingers running across the slightly textured surface. It was cold and solid, one tangible reminder that these aren't the only walls she will face tonight. She was shocked at the emptiness surrounding her. Surely someone with a wallet as large as hers would have more possessions? A shallow mindset, yet still puzzling. Her mind wandered with her stride; the door was ajar, golden light bleeding into the quiet, dark hall. Soft shuffling and quiet curses came from inside the room. With a gentle push, Chloe entered the room.

A bed, unmade with black sheets that glistened in the light, was placed in the center of the adjacent wall that was painted navy blue. Beca stood to her left in the bathroom. It was modern, using white and steel accents; a large, glass shower towered over her. Chloe appeared in the mirror behind her. She looked to be fiddling with a pill bottle, but her hands were too shaky to open it easily. Chloe quietly approached her and gently took the bottle from Beca's cold and weak hands. She opened the bottle and took out a thin, white bar. Placing it on the counter, she poured her a glass of water.

"What are you still doing here?" Beca asked tiredly. She ran a pale hand through her messy hair and ignored the water, dry swallowing the pill.

"You shouldn't be drinking or smoking on this," Chloe comments. She didn't speak with the intention of judgment, only quiet worry.

"What are you, my doctor?" Her words lack the previous bite. Her anxiety spell bled her dry.

"No, but I am a nurse. How often do you take Xanax with alcohol?" Beca remains silent. "I know it's prescribed for a reason. How long have you been on it?"

"2016."

Chloe nods her head and stops her line of questioning.

"You still haven't answered my question. Why are you still here?" Beca's eyes finally meet Chloe's. Lifeless is all Chloe could describe them as.

"I'm here to make sure you don't accidentally kill yourself."

_At least she's honest._

"Why does it matter to you? I was a dick."

"You may be a dick, but that doesn't mean I want you dead, Beca." Beca stared at her. Chloe's bright blue eyes drowning with concern and honesty which caught her off guard.

"You don't have to help me," the brunette says. She is firm and resolute but she lacks any real conviction in her tired, rough voice.

"Who else is going to help you, Beca? Anastasia?" Beca remains silent, again. She was too tired to fight. She was too tired for much of anything. "Let me help you. If only for the night. You can kick me out tomorrow. But let me be here for you tonight."

She could easily call security and have the pushy, obnoxious redhead escorted out. But what would that do? Truly? She was the only one who stayed. In a night full of bad decisions, Beca felt obligated to make a good choice, the right choice. She squared her shoulders, feeling how her feet were pulled to the floor. She drew whatever strength she could from her heels to pump through her body. Her mind began to quiet and she blinked once, twice, three times before nodding her head.

"Okay. You can stay."


	5. Chapter 5: Tribulation

**AN:** Sorry for the long wait (and regrettably) short chapter. I felt like this one speaks for itself in intensity and I wanted to respect that. I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy in these unsettling times. If anyone needs to reach out and talk, my inbox is always open. As always, please leave a comment with your feedback. I enjoy each and every response.

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing of the music or characters mentioned in this narrative.

**TW:** use of prescription drugs and mentions of gun violence in semi-descriptive detail.

* * *

_Seconds are all it takes. A single tick of the thinnest arm can uproot the very ground upon which you stand. Of course, tragedy knows not time or place. Arbitrary concepts based on human fragility do not dictate the course of life. Tragedy is one of the fewest agents who does not discriminate. I suppose that is why it is so innately painful. Happiness is fleeting, subjective, a game of chance. Tragedy is inevitable. Tragedy is living._

* * *

Beca's room was dark, save for the moonlight streaming through the gap of the curtains. Silver tendrils created enough fine webbing to allow the DJ to look at Chloe, truly observe her, sitting in her bed. She sat adjacent to Beca, her left thigh a couple inches from Chloe's right. The redhead's breathing was relaxed and even, her sloped nose releasing any harboring tension. She still looked immaculate after the night's tribulations, unscathed. The smallest smudging of her eyeliner was the only indicator of how long this day had been. Her clothing was not wrinkled, and her auburn hair remained styled as gentle curls. Everything about this woman screamed elegance, but not refinement. She lost that title in the passion that flooded her every syllable.

"You're staring," Chloe muses quietly. Beca blinks, taking a moment to process, before shaking her attention from the increasingly captivating redhead. A light smile pulls at Chloe's lips, but thankfully she drops the subject. Beca fidgets with her fingers, twisting the ring around her thumb clockwise, counterclockwise, then clockwise again. Back and forth, right to left. The silence finally overwhelms Beca enough to pull her phone out to play music.

"_Darlin', can't you see__  
__I'm a broken man__  
__With addictive tendencies__  
__And I think I love you__  
__But I don't ever think I can__  
__Ever learn how to love just right."_

"You like Matt Maeson?" Chloe asked, her eyes drifting into a memory before quickly returning. Beca nods her head, delicately placing her jewelry next to her phone upon her nightstand.

"Yeah, he's a good friend of mine. His music really resonates with me. You like him too, I'm guessing?" Chloe nodded, her breathe catching on a thought, but decided to remain silent. "You can talk," Beca reassures her. Her tired mind became candid under the intoxication and exhaustion of the day. "I like hearing you talk. Even if you never stop."

Chloe's head snaps to Beca's tired smirk, and although smug, nothing but genuine in her intention. Chloe smiles sadly before speaking. "My brother showed his music to me. He said something along the same lines as you."

"What, that he's a good friend of his?" Beca replies, drawing a small giggle from her companion. She smiles, liking the sound.

"No, smartass. That his music spoke to him. He related to it more than anything."

"What's his name?"

"His name is Tom." Beca nods her head, the name drawing their first encounter in the bathroom to the forefront of her mind.

"You talk about him in past tense, but you were just on the phone with him earlier." Beca is factual, no judgment, only curiosity about the observation. Chloe heaves a heavy sigh, her bright blue eyes dulling in weariness. Beca wanted to eat her words.

"It's just that," a pause, "the Tom I love is dead. The one I remember is gone. The Tom now is…vastly different. If that makes any sense at all." She blinks slowly and rolls the tension from her shoulders away. "Don't misunderstand me, I will always love my brother. I just hate who he has become." Chloe's narrative ended for the moment and Beca wanted to reassure her but felt incapable of doing so. So she didn't.

"_Oh and I'm tryin' to cope  
And burn just right, yeah  
Oh and I don't ever think I can  
Ever learn how to love you right."_

The music passed between them as a third companion. The calm, familiar melodies of the song offered a bittersweet balm to the chaos of their lives. Still in her clothes from the night, she stood to change. She offered Chloe an old Ramone's t shirt that lived in her dresser. She took it, offered a polite 'thank you' and went down the hall to change.

Beca stood in front of the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and smothered under black. Shaky hands began the process of placing her helpless hair into a bun thrown onto her head. She wouldn't bother taking off her makeup, not when it represented how she felt. Her pale skin bothered her, sheet white and haunting her. Grey eyes stared until her body no longer felt present; the reflection was a stranger. Beca couldn't tell if it was the Xanax or her grasp on sanity slowly slipping away. Weak palms braced her body on the counter over the sink. Twisting the faucet, cold water poured into the basin. She stared at it, and stared, and stared, and stared. Breathing. Existing. She took her hands and cupped them under the fixture. Icy water hit her face. She blinked. She splashed more water. Another breath. Water puddled on the counter and beaded upon the mirror. She stared at that, instead.

"Beca?"

She turned around to see Chloe in her large, grey t shirt and no pants. Her makeup was still on and her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. Crystal blue eyes rimmed in red. "Yeah?" Beca responds.

"You doing okay?" Beca nods and turns back to the sink. Chloe returns to the bed and moves the sheets to cover her legs. Turning the sink off, Beca moved into the closet to change into grey sweatpants and loose tank top. Though the fabric might not hug her chest, her lungs feel captured in invisible ties. _Breathe_. She returns to the bed.

"You're _not_ stupid, and don't try and correct me that you are." Beca only looks Chloe in the eyes, noticing how the color is off, too much red surrounding them to be normal. "Why do you make the _stupid_ choice to abuse?"

"It's not a stupid choice." Beca says flatly, offering nothing else to the distraught redhead.

"How can you defend abuse? At any minute your stupidity could cost you your _life_." Chloe's heart was aching, and she knew that any explanation given by the brunette would only further the pain in empathy.

"If given the choice between waking up tomorrow or having my heart stop, in this moment, I would gladly choose a one-way ticket."

"How could you say that? Life is a _gift_. You have _so much_ talent and time left to share with the world!" Chloe was in disbelief; someone so beautiful, so gifted, and still so troubled. Fame can fix a lot, but not everything, apparently.

"There's very little hope for me to cling to anymore. I don't have friends, I don't have family, I have next to nothing to live for." A hollow, flat laugh. Her throat was raw. Blue eyes unfocused and wet. Chloe didn't know if it was from pain or anger. Is there truly a difference?

"So why do you keep going? If life is so awful and pointless, why bother letting people watch your…slow suicide?" Her only response was a shrug of the shoulders. Chloe shook her head and felt her frustration mounting. It was bubbling inside her chest and she fought to keep it from bursting in an exclamation of disagreement. Or worse: passion. The dim room became overwhelmingly quiet. Chloe breathed in deeply, smelling the barest traces of pine and smoke, sighed, then attempted to cap her emotion into a bearable burden before engaging in the living dead before her. "There must be a reason…something to keep you here. Otherwise you would have left much sooner than now." Beca's eyes snapped to her. Her brow was uncharacteristically relaxed, and her full lips were pressed into a thin line. The way her body sat, devoid of movement, looked as serene as diving underneath the ocean. The air was suddenly sucked into a vacuum of intense attention.

"I was _supposed _to leave sooner. I was _supposed_ to be dead. But I'm not. And I live each day in agony because of it." A beat of calm silence. "Do you know what it's like, not being able to close your eyes without seeing blood covering your palms, without hearing the methodic raining of bullets _rip_ into a crowd? Because I do. I haven't had a moment's peace in years. That luxury was killed the day my friends were murdered. The second that my best friend jumped in front of a gunman to save my life was the exact moment my life ended. But my body stayed." Beca turned away from Chloe. "It's not stupid. Using. It's necessary. If I don't…" Beca blinked, "my reason for keeping me here leaves with the last high."

Chloe was crying, tears streaking down her cheeks to fall into her lap, but she was silent. Beca was laying down, her body still in the darkness. Chloe gently fell back and held her. She felt impossibly small in her arms.

_Breathe._

"You're safe now."

A beat.

"I know."

* * *

Song used is "Tribulation-Stripped" by Matt Maeson. Highly recommend his music, he is incredibly talented.


	6. Chapter 6: Whatshername

**AN:** Oh man, I apologize for the super delayed update. I hope everyone is staying safe in these trying times. If anyone needs someone to talk to, my inbox is always open. Leave a like, follow, review, anything is appreciated. Hope you enjoy! (Also, at the end of the chapter, I will put the YouTube video I used as reference musically)

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters or music mentioned.**

**Potential TW: liberal alcohol consumption**

* * *

**Chapter Six: Whatshername**

* * *

_To feel the match burn down to my fingertips is a romance pried from the flame. Any type of lyricism is ruined by the emotion which stains the plainest of snows in your violent and bleeding red. I wanted your touch, soft as rain, but instead felt the torrents of the things we whispered under velvet skies. My eyes remain blind, and my heart open. Maybe when, maybe then._

* * *

3 am.

Beca blinked slowly. The lids of her eyes weighed heavy but refused to rest. Her chest rose in slow, shallow breaths, being careful not to disturb the sleeping stranger next to her. Chloe's arms were still wrapped loosely around her; if Beca thought too much about it, which she would not, Chloe's unapologetic smothering was almost comfortable. Almost. Beca shook her head and slowly began the sensitive process of leaving her bed unnoticed. The sleeping redhead was out cold. _Lucky bastard_. Almost as soon as Chloe put her head down on her silk pillowcase, her chest evened into a blissful slumber. The DJ felt her relax and whispered a prayer to share the same fate, even for an hour, a minute, a second. No luck, but then again, when was she ever lucky?

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet met the cold wood floor. If the Xanax had worn off, she would have noticed how frigid her home was, but the goosebumps covering her body weren't caused by the lack of warmth. Taking the familiar late-night hike to her in home studio, Beca stumbled to the second door on the right. Why she didn't make it the first door was beyond her. She collapsed into her desk chair and relaxed as much as she could with how tense her muscles felt. Reaching for her desktop, the screen powered on and lit her pale face in a blue hue. Her body, at least, followed a strict schedule that she could depend on. Work, get drunk, work, get high, take a Xanax, and sleep until 3 am, work some more, get high, rinse repeat. Did she mention work?

Though she lacked sleep, she appreciated the witching hour. The world goes still, and no one would ever judge the troubled soul being denied peace. Bringing her headphones onto her head, Beca loaded her software and allowed delicate strings of melody caress her dulled body. She built layers, adding to her foundation, and allowing each wall of music to be strong and dependable. She liked to think of her mixes like she was an engineer. If she neglected to strengthen her base, the whole building would tumble down. And Bec doesn't let her mixes fail. She pulled out the keyboard from the desk and secured the wires fed from the computer. The gentle sound of her fingers on the keys melted into her bones; the exhaustion she feels bled into her music until she was dry of that weight. Fingers danced on keys; eyes fluttered gently against the melancholy song. She breathed heavily, finally allowing her lungs to fill in and collapse against her ribs. She didn't feel much of anything, really, but would rather feel nothing than something. Especially when that something is a tentative hand on her shoulder.

Beca turned around and took her headphones off. _Breathe. 1. 2. 3._ Beca wasn't anxious, she didn't feel her heart start in her chest, nor did she feel scared or startled by the presence of the redhead. Any upset she felt was overshadowed by the sleepy woman in front of her. "If you're looking for the bathroom, it was in my room." Beca drawled slowly. Chloe just stared at her, her blue eyes piercing the dark while remaining full of sleep.

"Why are you up? I was getting a drink of water, but you weren't in bed." She stifled a yawn and rubbed her eyes. Beca only blinked in response. "What are you working on?" she tried again. Beca shrugged before turning back to her computer. Chloe sighed quietly before moving to stand on Beca's right. She was overwhelmed with the different colors and buttons on screen and how Beca could make sense of it all. Though she couldn't hear what the DJ was playing, she could tell from her face that it wasn't the up-tempo club music she was used to hearing. "Do you need anything? I still want that glass of water, so…"

"A stiff drink if you're offering," quipped Beca, her eyes never leaving the screen. Chloe nodded before padding off downstairs. Beca removed her hands from the keyboard and let her arms hang in defeat. She couldn't think, let alone write, not with some stranger constantly finding ways to get under her skin. _Breathe. It can wait._ Chloe came back holding a glass of water and a bottle of Jack Daniels. _Maybe she isn't so bad._

"I didn't know how much you wanted, and I figured you need it." Chloe trails gently. Beca looks at her, then the bottle, then back to Chloe's eyes. The redhead wanted to fidget under the stoic attention Beca paid to her, but she refused to give in, wanting to keep what little pride she had left. Beca took the bottle and set it next to her computer.

"There's a chair in the back corner if you're intending on staying." Chloe didn't respond, only grabbed the chair and set it down next to Beca's.

Chloe watched as Beca worked; her rapid movement of components across the screen put Chloe in a trance. The calculated eyes never strayed. She didn't know how much time passed before the brunette grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took a large gulp. She glanced in Chloe's direction and noticed how she was staring. Beca sighed before turning to meet her gaze.

"You already slept in my bed, Red. Might as well ask whatever's bothering you." She chased her words with another drink.

Chloe fortunately looked embarrassed at being caught and sipped her water. Beca was beginning to lose patience with her and was turning to start working again before she spoke.

"How do you know Anastasia?"

The DJ was surprised. She didn't expect that question, at least not so soon. Another drink. _Breathe_. "We went to high school together." Chloe nodded her head in thought, another question teasing the tip of her tongue. Beca only stared in reply, clenching the bottle in her hand.

"Are you two…" the redhead trails off and carefully watches grey eyes for a reaction. A relaxed brow twitched downward in a quick scowl before smoothing out. Chloe is fascinated by the amount of emotion a single movement expresses for the DJ.

"No, at least not conventionally." Beca sighs. "Neither of us are the same as we were, once. Before all of the mess, the fame, the bullshit. Things are very different from then." Beca tips the bottle to her lips once again, barely grimacing at the fire dripping down her throat. Her face is still schooled in careful stoicism, but she can't tell if its her own will or the magic pill's doing. She moves her eyes to glance over the monitor. She fiddles with arbitrary settings. A slow blink. Her hands rest on the desk, a ghost of a tap dancing on her fingertips. _Breathe_. If her chest could tighten, it would. It was too quiet, too still. Beca reached for her headphones and continued playing. She wasn't sure how much time had passed when Chloe tapped her shoulder again. Beca did her best to curb her irritation and slowly uncovered her ears.

"Would you be willing to let me listen?" Chloe's voice was gentle and quiet though each syllable fought exhaustion. The oversized shirt made her seem smaller than she was. Her hair, thrown in a sloppy bun, allowed tendrils of fire to frame her face. Small, pink lips lifted in the softest smile Beca had ever seen. How could she say no? Beca turned, avoided her eyes, and nodded in reply. She unplugged her headphones and resumed playing.

The light melody of a song began to fill the space; Chloe thought it to be vaguely familiar. Beca's hands, though small, adeptly traversed across white and black. You could see each movement of her hands elicited a different intensity, a different word to the phrase. The brunette's eyes occasionally fluttered shut, allowing the song pouring from her hands into her chest. Chloe was enraptured at the raw performance, the air charged by Beca's emotion being woven into the waves of sound. Her pale skin was flushed from the alcohol and her lips were parted, seeming to ask a question. The black around her eyes gave an impression of a skull rather than a beautiful woman. Chloe's eyes never broke from her face; she needed to memorize each twitch of Beca's skin to remember that she was human, too, regardless of the ethereal grace she displayed. Beca continued to play before she spoke.

"listen before i go," She said quietly. "Billie Eilish wanted me to arrange a piano cover to the song. I cowrote her last album." She kept playing. "Most people don't realize I produce and write more than I perform." Beca finished the song and looked over to see Chloe's eyes boring into hers. The worry lines were too deep for a woman that young. The shadows too dark. Beca couldn't pull away.

"You are _full_ of surprises, Beca Mitchell."

Beca shakes her head with a small smile and reaches for the bottle of whiskey. Chloe's hand meets hers and softly rests it on top of the DJ's. Beca looks back up at Chloe, her red rimmed eyes holding a question. The faintest glimmer of something Chloe couldn't recognize wavered underneath.

"I know this isn't my business," Chloe hesitates when she sees Beca shrink even more into herself, "but why do you keep her around, Beca?"

"Who, Billie? I mean she's _kinda_ my client-"

"You and I both know that's not what I meant."

Beca sighs. She pushes a weak hand through the stray hairs that fell into her eyes. Should she even entertain the question? One single misstep could ruin a career. She has never met this woman in her life; for all Beca knew, she could be an informant for a tabloid. One look into bright blue eyes, however, destroyed any suspicion Beca could potentially harbor.

"She's always been there for me." There. Short and simple.

Chloe snorts in response but remains quiet, silently urging Beca to elaborate. Another sigh.

"We met in high school. Fell in love. I went through hell and back and she was there. Fell out of love. She sticks around."

"You deserve someone who cares about you."

Grey eyes snap to Chloe who seemed just as surprised as Beca was.

Beca recovered. "You don't know me." The scariest part to Chloe was how adamant Beca seemed in proving her wrong.

"You're deflecting," Chloe replied.

"So what if I am? It's still true. You _don't_ know me."

"Maybe not," Chloe admits quietly, "but I want to. If you'll let me."

Beca's brow furrows and she gazes wearily back at the woman in front of her. Perplexed barely covers the confusion she feels in response. Alarm bells quietly wail in Beca's head. _It's because I'm famous. It's because I have money. _Endless different reasons flooded behind her eyes and pounded her logic in a tidal wave of suspicion. She was succumbing under their relentless wave. _Why would she actually want to know_ you? _You're pathetic._ She shakes her head. _Don't be ridiculous, Rebecca. You aren't worth her time. _Beca shuts her eyes tightly, her chest heaving in one long, deep breath. When she opens them, the grey of her irises were metal doors, locked tight. Chloe felt a chill roll over her body.

"You can get to know me, too," Chloe suggests. "My name is Chloe Elizabeth Beale, I'm 26, and I'm a nurse at Children's Hospital Los Angeles." She gives Beca a small, encouraging smile in retaliation to her blank stare; it would take a lot more than petulant silence to dissuade her decision. "I'm originally from North Carolina and I have two brothers: one older, one younger." Chloe pauses again, her eyes never leaving the DJ. Bored eyes search Chloe's and she struggles to stay still. "I can talk all night…just so you know…" It was worth a try. If Chloe's learned anything tonight, she knows that Beca would rather throw herself from the balcony than have her ear talked off. And she took the bait.

"For fucks sake, what do you want from me, Chloe?" Beca snapped. Its not like she was trying to be inherently cruel; she could be prickly, sure, but she wouldn't describe herself cruel. Besides saying her name for the first time tonight, her eyes swirled in a storm of emotion Chloe noticed; of what she couldn't be sure. Gotcha.

"Nothing!" Chloe exclaimed, her hands gesturing wildly. "I don't want _anything_ from you. I just want to talk and be a person to you: not a fan, not a client, nothing. No motive other than genuine human connection. Scout's honor." She made an 'X' over her heart and waited with bated breath.

Beca pursed her lips. The last few functioning braincells she possessed were tired; tired of thinking, tired of denying, tired of being totally alone. She had her team and she had Anastasia. But do they really count? Her label, her clients, her fans, all faceless pawns in an audience. Her life was a show: entertainment and income. Who did she _really_ have? She licked her lips, grabbed the bottle, and swallowed heavily. Chloe's enthusiasm slowly fizzled out, leaking like a balloon.

"I'm Beca Mitchell, I'm 23, and I am a musician." It took a few seconds for Chloe to process what was happening, but a large grin painted her face in radiant happiness. Beca tried not to notice. "I'm originally from Florida. Only child. Unless you count step siblings, which I really don't." Chloe kept smiling, lips pulled taught and wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. The blues of her eyes danced in mirth and shined like sapphires. The DJ fidgeted in her chair; the way Chloe was staring at her was increasingly uncomfortable and getting creepy. Beca cleared her throat and tried to look away.

"Have you eaten tonight?"

"What?" Beca looked at Chloe, confused.

"Have you, Beca, eaten food tonight?" Chloe repeats. Her eyebrows raised in amusement at how clueless the small woman could be. Chloe watched her eyes focus in understanding before she shook her head. "Well that's good 'cause I'm starving. Come on!" Chloe lightly wraps her hand around Beca's right bicep and drags her out the chair. The brunette stumbled and struggled to regain her balance from the momentum used to haul her into the kitchen. The alcohol in her system was also making a reappearance in her movements and vision. _Why me_…

Chloe deposited the drunken DJ on one of the bar stools before heading straight to the refrigerator. "Hey, Becs?" She asks. Her only response is a grunt. "Do you own anything other than Redbull and soda?" Another grunt. Chloe turns back to Beca and sees her head in her hands on the granite counter. She sighs quietly before picking up her phone and opening DoorDash. "Are you capable of ordering food right now, or do you need me to do it for you?" Beca sits up, her eyebrows lowered in a scowl. She stares into Chloe's eyes intently; her breath catches in her throat at being looked at so passionately. Beca's lips slowly part, a ghost of hesitation, before erupting in one of the most powerful burps Chloe has ever heard. It was quickly followed by a full-bellied laugh and the slapping of her knee.

"You should have seen your fucking face, bro," she wheezed in between laughs. Chloe stared back, unimpressed; but if she was being honest, Beca's laugh was the richest, warmest sound she had ever heard. The laughter died down, but thankfully the smile still remained on her face. "Here, take my phone and order whatever you want. No tomatoes and no broccoli. Oh, and no fish sauce. Don't ask." Chloe nods and takes the phone from Beca's outstretched hand. It was already unlocked displaying a younger Beca grinning widely with a guy that had a goofy smile. He was wearing a grey 'Jaws' t shirt with an arm thrown around her shoulders. His hair was brown and messy, the ultimate boy next door. The next thing Chloe noticed was the 5 missed calls and 17 text messages from Anastasia. Something inside her twitched, feeling plucked and tweaked. It wasn't her business, she kept telling herself. She doesn't care. Chloe quickly found the delivery apps and busied herself with picking out dinner. Her finger scrolled through the options as Beca quietly tapped an unheard beat on the counter. Chloe hid a smile to herself and continued to order.

"Hey, Red?" Chloe gives an airy hum, her eyes still busy with the screen. "I'm sorry I said your hair was from a bottle."

"No hard feelings. It happens a lot. I'm sorry for being a bitch to you and Anastasia. Actually, just you." Beca laughs again and settles into a small, yet content smile. It's the most at peace that she has felt in a while.

"Yeah," Beca says, running an absentminded hand through the mess of hair thrown on her head. "I don't blame you. I think the only thing I regret is not letting you beat her ass." Chloe snorts, her eyes briefly leaving the screen to peer at Beca from the top. Beca winks at her before continuing. "It would have been like super hot."

* * *

Song Used:

Billie Eilish - listen before i go | The Theorist Piano Cover


	7. Chapter 7: A Few of My Favorite Things

Hey everyone, I am really sorry for the delay and regrettably short chapter. My life has been taking some unexpected turns recently and keeping up with the fic took a seat on the back burner. I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. Any feedback is greatly appreciated; I love hearing from you!

* * *

_Each step I tread doesn't fall in vanity or fiction. The dreams I hold dear to my own mending heart gleam with chance. Hope is a dangerous thing to risk on an alien likeness, but fractured resolve gambled it away. A cycle, an odd roulette, spinning the barrel until you pull the trigger._

* * *

"So," Beca had no shame in showing Chloe a mouthful of phad thai, "what made you move 'cross country?" Chop sticks shoveled more noodles into her mouth. Chloe's eyes peeked over her phone with amusement dancing in her irises. Although Chloe wasn't feeling particularly hungry, Beca had insisted - more so forced - her to get something. So, she begrudgingly agreed, leaving her pushing around a broccoli stir-fry. She took a pregnant pause and rolled the words around in her head.

"Well," she licked her lips, "after I graduated nursing school, my mom passed away. I decided to make a fresh start; LA seemed like the place to go." She nodded to herself and continued to move vegetables around in the rice. The nice thing about Beca is that she doesn't pry. Chloe's vulnerability was palpable, so Beca left the subject alone. For that, Chloe was grateful.

Beca had finished her food and went behind the counter to grab a glass. She filled a quarter of it with whiskey and grabbed a coke from the fridge to finish it off. Chloe noticed, but chose not to mention it. If Beca can respect her privacy, so should she. "You can go to bed if you want," the DJ said quietly while sipping her drink. Her eyes were still rimmed in black, and her skin was a ghostly white; a tired sigh left her lungs as the DJ moved to the balcony once again. Chloe eyed the dirty dishes on the counter before following.

"What's your favorite color?" Beca asked, her head propped on her hand.

They had been standing outside quietly for a few minutes to admire the scattered LA skyline before Beca broke the silence. Chloe was surprised Beca initiated the conversation, but she wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste.

"I think blue. The closest shade is probably my eyes, for reference."

"A little vain there, don't you think?" Beca remarked, the corner of her mouth pulled into a small smirk. Chloe flipped her off before her head returned to the landscape. The air was still hot, but the slightest breeze would occasionally kiss skin and comb through their hair. The moon, cloaked in smog, was a smudge in the sky. The only stars that twinkled were the thousands of cars and buildings polluting the streets. Chloe closed her eyes and took in a deep breath; the air filled her lungs and she couldn't help but smell the traces of weed, but there was something else. She was reminded of the forest behind her childhood home, a green wall of towering trees and their commanding presence. She could smell the cedar and pine dusting the air and ground and feel the cool breeze tickle her neck. A small smile melted on her face. She opened her eyes and saw steel gazing back.

"You okay?" She asked. Chloe nodded and kept the shy smile.

"Yeah, I just got lost in thought for a moment." A pause. "If you could live anywhere in the world, which I'm sure you could, where would it be?"

Beca stared blankly at her. Chloe stared back, waiting.

"Amsterdam."

Chloe nodded and filed that piece of information away for another time. If there was another time. She hoped there would be. Beca took another drink and cleared her throat. "All time favorite band. Go."

Getting excited now, Chloe bounced on the balls of her feet and clapped her hands together. "Oh god, this is so hard! I can't pick," she said.

"Come on, there has to be _someone_ you would kill to see in concert."

Chloe's head was rapidly rifling through her mental filing cabinets to find her answer. When it finally came, she let out a small squeal and clapped her hands again.

"Ke$ha." She said it so confidently that Beca couldn't help and smile at her decisive head nod.

"Wasn't expecting that, but good choice," Beca continued to smile into her drink. _This is nice_, she thought. _Easy. _

"Okay, hm," Chloe began, her nose scrunching in thought and her tongue poking out of her lips. "What is your favorite superhero?"

Beca let out a cackle and held her stomach in amusement. Her eyes swam in amusement and she turned to face the redhead. "DC or Marvel?"

"Either, but there is an obvious answer."

"Uh huh," Beca muttered and took a second to mull her answer over. "Deadpool."

"He's an anti-hero, he doesn't count!" Chloe looked exasperated, her hands gesturing wildly into the air like they were looking for the logic she thought Beca surely lacked. Red strands in the soft glow of lights framed her head in a fiery halo. Everything about her screamed 'I'm alive!'. The air was charged with her vibrancy.

"You asked who my favorite superhero was. Wade Wilson is super, and the word hero is still in his title. Therefor he is a superhero." Beca finished smugly, hiding her smirk of victory behind the dwindling drink. Chloe huffed and tossed her hair over her left shoulder.

"Are you always a smartass?" Chloe crossed her arms over her chest and waited for a response only to see the DJ wiggling her eyebrows and smiling like the devil. Another sigh of frustration left her lips, but she still felt a chuckle rumbling in her chest.

"That was technically two questions… just in case you were keeping score." Beca saw bright blue eyes narrowing and decided she had enough fun. "Alright," she exhaled dramatically, "favorite book?"

Chloe leaned further onto the railing and dug deep into her mental catalog. "The Hunger Games," she decided. "I know it's technically a children's book, but I related to it."

"What, you kill children, too?" Beca desperately tried not to laugh, but Chloe saw and was seconds from smacking the back of her head.

"I work in a fucking children's hospital, dickhead, why would I kill children?"

"Woah," Beca put her hands up in front of her, palms facing Chloe. "Language, for one, and two, it's the perfect cover! One wrong 'slip up' and boom. Another tally on your growing list of child murders." Her words were slightly slurred, and a lazy smile painted her lips, but her shoulders were the most relaxed Chloe had seen.

"The only child I want to kill is the one right next to me," Chloe countered. Beca nodded her head and backed down out of respect, the small, soft smile never leaving her face. "What is your favorite instrument?"

Beca tapped her fingers on the railing. "Either piano or drums. I've never been able to choose."

Chloe hummed in approval and felt the exhaustion of the night seep into her. Her eyes were tired, her body was tired, her mind was tired. Between the long shifts at the hospital, going out tonight, and staying with Beca, it was a miracle she was till standing. Beca noticed her yawn and the way her eyelids would flutter with a tilt of her head. "Come on, Red, its bedtime." Beca seemed almost disappointed to end to their little game, but she still helped Chloe into the house and up the stairs. Her eyes were becoming lazy, drifting in and out with every yawn. Beca chuckled and found her fight against sleep endearing. Her hands softly guided Chloe into the bedroom once again and laid the redhead down onto the silk sheets. A soft sigh left Chloe's mouth when her head hit the pillow and it caused Beca to stop, startled. Her heart lurched at the noise and her eyes were wide with worry. _Relax. Relax. Relax. Relax. _Bright blue eyes cracked open and found Beca standing wide eyed and unmoving.

"Hey Becs?" Her voice was tired and soft.

"What is it?"

"Thank you. For looking out for me. I think we are going to be fast friends." With that, Chloe drifted off into dreamland. Beca stood and watched her chest slowly rise and gently fall. She was entranced; tiny puffs of air lifted the little baby hairs framing her face. Her face, pale in the dark, was possessed by tranquility, something that Beca has never known. It was 4:54 in the morning and Beca had evaded the hold of sleep once again. She sighed and forced her gaze away from the sleeping girl in her bed. She shouldn't like the sound of that, but she did. _Don't be ridiculous_. Her bare feet padded away from the bed and down the hall. She glanced at her studio but felt no need to work. She had worked enough. But what else would she do?

Walking down the stairs, she decided to befriend the couch. As she sank into the grey cushions, she pulled out her phone. More texts and calls from Anastasia, but thankfully they stopped before 4am. Beca knew she couldn't ignore her forever. In fact, that's the exact opposite of what you _should_ do. But Beca was less than understanding. She clicked on her texts and saw a full-on assault from the blonde who uprooted the entire evening (surprisingly it was not Fat Amy). She thought about what Chloe had said earlier, why she kept Ana around. What she told her was true: she had always been there for her. She was starting to wonder, however, how much of that was still true. What had Anastasia done for her in the past 6 months? Beca's inability to provide an answer was more than enough evidence that her previous statement had been changed. If Ana wasn't being there for her now, why is she still in her life? It's a sad, perpetual cycle that Beca has fallen victim to once again. The waves kept crashing and rolling over her, a torrent of rain whipped her mind into a storm of unanswered questions.

Beca knew their relationship wasn't healthy, not that she had ever truly cared before. Anastasia was volatile and unstable. There was no debate about it. Some moments with her were pleasant, but that mood could turn into the biggest argument of your life. Beca gave up a long time ago when it came to apologizing to her. It wouldn't be good enough in Ana's eyes anyways. Beca read her first text.

"_Rebecca Mitchell, I can't believe you brought a whole gang of sluts into our apartment. I didn't think you could stoop much lower, but you surprised me once again with how shitty of a human you are."_

Beca laughed and scrolled to the next one.

"_Beca, if you don't answer me right now, I'm gone. Done."_

Beca could only hope she was so lucky. She kept scrolling.

"_STOP FUCKING THAT REDHEADED HOOKER AND PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE."_

At this point, Beca scrolled past at least ten of those texts before Ana's attitude shifted.

"_Beca, please talk to me, I'm worried about you…"_

"_Did you take your meds? Do you need anything?"_

"_I'm so sorry Becs, please don't shut me out."_

It blew Beca's mind how a person could give such intense whiplash in their demeanor. She read the last one.

"_I can't lose you, please don't leave me, I'm so scared…" _

If she hadn't sighed enough tonight, she had hit her quota as the umpteenth huff filled the silence. Beca opened her voicemail and played the first one only to hear a cacophony of screaming and breaking glass. She deleted the rest.

Beca looked at the time, her phone reading at 5:12am. Her eyelids were finally weighing heavy. She succumbed to that feeling and sank further into the couch. By 5:18am, she was out cold.


	8. Chapter 8: Epiphany

AN: Sorry it took me so long. I made this chapter almost double the length of normal. Lmk what you think :)

* * *

_Haunting deeply and touched intimately is the heart with curiosity for the masochist. A mouth carved open, eyelids fluttering as the ghost of a fond happening kisses porcelain skin. Still, she is found bound and shut with broken faith. Swallowed monologue in acceptance of pain, broken faith fuels every beat of a heart in love with intimate destruction._

* * *

Beca lifts her head from the recording booth's desk. Her pounding headache amplifies her annoyance with the unnecessary itinerary C.R. keeps repeating. She watched her manager talk, registers her lips moving, but not a single sound makes it past the drumming of her brain in her skull. A frustrated groan unwillingly leaves her lips as she takes off her sunglasses. The harsh light stuns her briefly before she picks up her phone and sees a notification from an unknown number. She pinches the bridge of her nose and unlocks the phone.

"_Don't file a restraining order, but I totally sent myself your number. This way I can annoy you at any time of day ;) -Chloe"_

Beca's eyes glaze over the kissing emoji that completes the unexpected message. Did this girl have no shame? Her head continues swimming in waves of dulled reminders of the previous night. She had gotten a total of five hours of sleep – which is a win in her book – before shot gunning a Redbull outside her booth. This has been her routine for the past two years and a half; the dark shadows tattooed beneath her eyes provide all the evidence. She blinks one more time, rereading the message, then runs a shaky hand through the hair she neglected to tame before work. _Do I even respond?_

Her queries were interrupted by the next buzzing of her phone.

"_Also, I'm stopping by after my shift to drop off some groceries. Redbull and juice? Really?"_

"For fuck's sake…" she muttered, dropping her phone glass down on the table. Her eyes finally meet C.R.'s. Her dark complexion is painted in curiosity and her hands gesture to explain. Beca heavily debates the decision before her: she tells C.R. that she acquired a crazy fangirl who Beca doesn't completely despise, or she keeps it secret until when? She doesn't know. _Okay, Beca. Choose carefully. _"Nothing, just pointless emails." C.R. narrows her eyes slightly but neglects to challenge the statement.

"As I was saying," a pointed expression in Beca's direction causes a pair of eyes to roll into attention, "the label is putting a lot of pressure to release this album early in hopes of a bigger tour which hits all of the major festivals. Right now, Coachella and Hangout have you as a headliner; Lollapalooza is still figuring their shit out, but it'll most likely be the same for them as well. How close is the album to being released?" Beca shrugs her shoulders, her thoughts miles away. "You seem off, B, more so than normal. Did those girls give you a run for your money?" Beca's tired eyes meet C.R.'s with a wave of her hand discarding the idea.

"They were something else, that's for sure…" she trails off, her mind full of fire and sapphires. The DJ blinks. _Breathe. Stop being pathetic._ She shakes her head. "Anyways…the uh, the album just needs to polish up, make sure the final EQ is good and details like that. If they want it so bad, we are looking at maybe a week before we can send it to the publishers. It's not ideal for my liking, but, when you sell your soul over…" she finishes with a mirthless chuckle. Her hand finds the second can of Redbull and pops it open in a satisfying crack of carbonation. A long swig of the disgustingly sweet drink and she was ready to work, but not before picking her phone up and typing out a text.

"_I'm trying to tell myself that if I don't respond, you will go away. Knowing what little I do know about you, however, doing so would only increase my torment."_

With the tiniest of smiles pulling at her lips, she puts her phone down and turns to the sound board. She quickly goes to work with her headphones thrown over her ears and her fingers dancing across the different dials and switches. The overwhelming hangover combined with the strangest night Beca can remember are fading from the forefront of her thoughts. Working with music was truly a blessing for her. It's no secret that she has severe anxiety; the years of therapy were more of a nuisance than a remedy. The only thing to truly alter the cyclical torrent of thoughts was music. Music ran through her veins, filled every breath. Growing up, it had been her lifeline. The stress surrounding an unstable home and overwhelming emotion weighed Beca down heavily. It was a constant to feel her chest wrapped in an invisible noose, tightening little by little as time passed. This was just her reality. Music, though? Music did what no therapist or medication could. The swirling melodies, countered bass, solid percussion all intertwine. This lifeline was steadfast and strong. When the world let Beca down, music would pull her back up. It's all she had.

Her focus was moved from the sample she was working on when she felt, more than heard, the door swing open. She whispered a silent prayer, begging to be left alone before the headphones were ripped from her head. Brown hair whipped from the speed she snapped her head to glare at the woman who was responsible.

"Why haven't you answered any of my calls?" Anastasia hissed, her left, manicured hand grabbing the padding of Beca's headphones in a vice grip. She sported dark jeans and a forest green shirt; a cream-colored cardigan hung off her shoulders with the sleeves in the crook of her elbows. Long gold necklaces swung with her movements and her eyes possessed a crazed gleam that Beca has rarely seen. Beca stared at her, the patience it was taking not to call security was her yearly good deed. She was convinced of it. "I know you saw my texts. What is your damage, Rebecca? Can't you see that I care about you? I love you and _this_," she gestures wildly, "is how you treat me?"

Beca's hand roughly rubs her face, trying desperately to collect her emotions. _Breathe. One. Two. Three. Unclench your jaw. One. Two. Three. _It wasn't working. Her knuckles were white, gripping the armrests to her chair. Her back was straight, and she felt the tension in her muscles about to snap. "Anastasia," she calmly and quietly articulates the syllables, "I will give you three seconds to calm down. If you do not – no, _no_, let me finish- I _will_ call security. My patience has reached its end." Beca saw her green eyes narrow, but she swallowed her protests and shoved the headphones back into the brunette's lap with a huff. Beca breathed the smallest sigh of relief but remained stiff. She wasn't out of the woods, yet. "Why are you here?" Beca says just as quietly.

"What do you mean 'why am I here' are you stupid? I'm here because you—"

"Why are you _here_? _Why_?" The exasperation in her voice bleeds into the room. "You repeat the same. Fucking. Bullshit. over and over and I still don't know! It's astonishing! I'm truly amazed at the growth you've had as a person." Her words, while tired, still carried an edge that digs underneath your skin. You feel the cold before you feel the pain. Her anger had charged the air and the oxygen was slowly seeping out. Strands of chocolate rose and fell with the energy surrounding her. She closed her eyes. _One. Two. Three. _She's not worth it_. One. Two. Three._ "Ana," she whispered, her voice losing the edge and finding a gentle rhythm in each phrase. "I can't keep doing this. I can't."

Anastasia peered back at her behind false eyelashes. The usual emerald green had darkened and it alarmed Beca. In her years of being with Anastasia, there was never once where her gaze simmered with something nefarious. Sure, she has always been the same cunning, cutting, and albeit insecure woman… but this Ana? Beca didn't recognize her. The last tug at the DJ's heartstrings pulled itself taught. Alarm bells sounded in Beca's head. _What would she say? Would she be okay?_ She's not mentally stable of course she's not okay. She can't keep this up. Her head is about to explode_. Dramatic_. _We can't leave her._ How could she not? Beca was scared. _If you care so much, why did you say those things?_ Her lips pulled into a tight line.

"You can't keep doing _what_, exactly?" Perfectly punctuated, expertly sharpened.

Beca pressed firm hands into her eyes. What was the point? Seconds ticked by, no one moving, no one breathing.

A buzz sounded on her desk.

Anastasia's eyes snapped to her phone. Beca was praying it wasn't who she thought it was. She was praying Anastasia wouldn't care to ask. She was praying to be anywhere but what was once her sanctuary. There was another buzz.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Beca felt her hair stand up when she heard her voice. A small, pale hand reached to the phone and turned on the screen.

"They're just emails," Beca sighed and turned her phone back over. Anastasia kept her eyes on Beca's hand. "Do you have anything else to say? I need to get back to work." Beca knew this was a cop out. Beca also knew that this was neither the time nor place to bury the decade long hatchet. Green eyes finally found tired grey and she rose silently. Grabbing her purse, Anastasia left, her face completely blank.

"_It's not torment if you enjoy it ;)"_

* * *

"I don't know, Bree! I don't know what you want me to tell you!" Chloe exclaimed in a shushed whisper. Her lavender scrubs rustled as she gathered papers and files. Aubrey, dressed in a charcoal pantsuit, held a hand on her hip with growing impatience.

"Chloe, something must have happened in order for you to one, stay the night, and two, for the perpetual smile that seems to be tattooed on your face. Or is that all a coincidence?"

Chloe huffed, knowing she had been caught. Her red hair was thrown into a messy bun complete with loose curls framing her face. The faintest blush painted her cheeks-which she vehemently refused to believe was there. Yes, she may be caught, but that didn't mean she had to give in. "So what if it did? Is that really such a big deal?" She called over her shoulder, reaching to place a file on a shelf. She tried to be coy, but this was _Aubrey_ of all people. She couldn't fake it.

"It IS a big deal because you haven't even been on a date in MONTHS, yet here you stand with a secret smile after holing up in a millionaire's penthouse. So… you tell me." Aubrey leveled her gaze and Chloe was reminded why she was one of the best prosecutors in the country_. Cliché,_ Chloe thought. To her defense, she was staying to make sure she didn't accidentally kill herself. Mostly. She kept trying to busy herself with the papers on the desk, but she realized she had already organized the papers by room number. She put her palms on the desk and closed her eyes. She felt the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders stretch and pop and she groaned in tired frustration. Was it _that_ obvious? She hadn't spoken so much a word to anyone about the events of last night and yet Aubrey was already standing at the nurse's station when she clocked in at 7:30 this morning. _Ugh_.

"Aubrey, I love you, but you're being dramatic," Chloe smiled and patted Aubrey's arm as she left behind the desk with files tucked under her elbow. The blonde just rolled her eyes and followed the redhead down the corridor, the clacking of her high heels echoing in the early morning stillness. Chloe cringed knowing that Aubrey wouldn't let up without knowing some answers. She huffed in stubborn defiance. If she wanted answers so badly, she was going to have to work for them. "Let it go, Bree, you're reading into it wayyyy too much." Aubrey stared blankly as the nurse struggled to slide the file into the folder outside the door. They kept moving from room to room, neither breaking the silence or stride. The redhead was starting to get irritated by the obvious hovering. Aubrey continued to follow as Chloe went about her day. "Are you just going to follow me for my shift, or do you have a job to go to?"

"Why are you being so stubborn about this? You've never been radio silent about a one-night stand."

"Woah, woah, woah," Chloe rushed out and she turned to fully face Aubrey with wide eyes. 'One, not a one-night stand, two, I'm being stubborn because I'm trying to respect Beca's privacy. Her life is already on display, I don't want to add to that." Aubrey had the decency to look guilty and she knew her best friend would respect her choice. Chloe wasn't lying; she valued privacy in her life which was a luxury Beca didn't have anymore. It was something small, but she wanted to at least give the DJ that. While she may have told the truth, she wasn't being 100% honest, either. Aubrey was her best friend; she knew practically every area of her life. This impromptu and entirely random occurrence was something she wanted to keep to herself, something only she would know. Her reason for this sudden change? She wasn't entirely sure, yet.

"Sorry, I know it's not my business. I can't help being curious," Aubrey smiles back sheepishly and checks her watch. "Well, I should head to work. Call if you need anything!" The echo of her shoes follow her to the elevator and fade with the closing of the doors. Chloe took a long breath and pushed the fly away hairs from her forehead. It wasn't like anything happened, right? She only wanted to fulfill her oath to protect and treat. That was innocent enough. It was purely professional and done to keep a clear conscious. The fact that the tiny DJ was incredibly talented and attractive weren't even in the equation. Not one bit. Chloe sighed and checked her phone behind the desk. The screen lit up and saw a notification. She didn't bother hiding the smile on her face.

"_You use an ungodly amount of emojis and emoticons that its nauseating."_ Chloe rolled her eyes and began to type out a reply.

"You think I talk like this to everyone? I know it triggers you." She tapped send. With a hum, she sank into her chair and waited to make her rounds. 7pm couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

Aside from the confrontation with Anastasia, Beca's day had been pretty calm. She expedited the album to compensate for the label's demand, and she was able to touch on some new mixes. C.R. left her alone after her (ex?) left. The DJ was blessed with her as a manger. With the space she needed and her creative outlet, Beca felt content. She was tired, but she was always tired. Her head hurt, but her head always hurt. Was this what getting old was like? No, it was definitely just a hangover. Why was she always hungover? She should smoke. _Yeah, that's a good idea_. She gathered her belongings and headed out of her studio. Her keys rang together as she flipped them back and forth in her hands walking down the familiar hallway. Once she got home, she was going to roll a joint, change into some sweatpants, and forget the day even happened. A sliver of panic clawed out of her chest at the thought of this morning. It's not like her relationship with Anastasia was a secret; the tabloids would occasionally spot them together and snatch an opportunity. But now that it's over? She didn't even know if it _was _over. There were so many thoughts tossing over in her mind and all of them pointed to an unknown. She hated that. The unending variables, the uncertain decisions…how could anyone function like that? To be fair, she was impulsive. She was responsibly impulsive. Most of the time. The worst part of all, was not being able to accept where she was or how she got there. One minute she was complacent with Anastasia's demands, and now she saw who she really was. That moment was jarring, whiplash to her memories. There were so many instances where she remembered she _felt_ happy, but the rose-colored glasses have begun to fall. Beca had done everything she could to make her satisfied; there was rarely a time Beca told her 'no'. Making Ana happy made Beca happy. That was just how it was. And, at the end of the day, Ana was always there when it counted. Letting go of that will be the hardest. Letting go _at all_ will be the hardest. She wasn't just something you could erase from your memories. In fact, Ana played a crucial part in Beca's life. Forgetting her would be like forgetting your name. And thankfully, Beca knows just the way to _make_ her forget.

Beca rode up the elevator to her apartment and went straight to the cabinet to the left of the refrigerator. A glass was set, filled with ice, and full of vodka, all under a minute. She was too damn good at this. Her eyes found her phone again. She had a few notifications, nothing pressing. Using her rare instant of free time, she found herself scrolling through Instagram. She didn't love social media, but she did admit it was easy entertainment. She took a sip of her drink and sighed. Even vodka had lost its novelty. She returned back to her phone and her eyes caught at the sight of a text from Chloe.

"_Send your address! I have the goods_."

Beca lowered her brows, thinking hard as to what Chloe was talking about before she understood. Chloe said after she got off work, she was bringing food. Beca felt silly for thinking it was a bluff. Of course she was serious. It was now 8:04pm and that meant she had little time to get ready for her stalker. She debated not sending a reply, but Chloe had already taken the time to go out and _buy_ Beca groceries. Beca wouldn't even bat an eye if she bought out a full store, but here is Chloe, spending her money on a millionaire. It was as confusing as it was interesting. Beca typed her address, sent it, then called the concierge to let them know about her visitor.

Minutes pass and Beca has no idea what to do with herself. She hadn't yet changed from work, so she didn't need to change from wearing a Ramones shirt and skinny jeans. Not that she should care what she looks like. This was _her_ apartment after all. Her eyes glanced around the space and was pleased to know it was still clean. That was one less thing to worry about. Not that she was worrying. The seconds tick by in the monotonous metronome within Beca's head. Tick, swing left, tick, swing right. Her heart was accelerating the longer she sat on the couch. Her skin crawled, needing to get up, to do something instead of sitting still. _It's just Chloe_, she told herself. But when did 'just Chloe' become a thing? Her apprehension grew. She wasn't going to think about it.

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _

The last bit of air in her lungs left from barely parted lips and she rose to open the door.

Beca was impressed. The redhead had managed to carry at least 10 grocery bags by herself to her floor. Sure, there was an elevator, but this was Olympic grocery level.

"Jesus, why so much?" She said before taking half of the bags and heading inside. Chloe didn't even look winded. The redhead was still in her scrubs with her hair cascading down her shoulders. Her makeup, while minimal, was only an instrument to her blue eyes. Beca cleared her throat while she lifted the bags to the island in her kitchen. Chloe took an unpainted, manicured hand and brushed some flyaway hairs from her forehead. She finally looked at Beca with one of the biggest smiles she had ever encountered. The corners of her eyes crinkled, and her cheeks revealed dimples. The DJ's lips turned into a faint smile in return.

"'Why so much?' You literally had no food in your fridge. None. I'm not even being dramatic," she said, sifting through the bags and putting items away.

"You really did not have to do this. Like, at all." Her voice was determined but not devoid of gratitude. Chloe only shrugged her shoulders.

"I know I didn't have to. But I wanted to. So now you have food and amazing company!"

"Really? When is Fat Amy coming?" Chloe scoffed in disbelief her hands palms down on the counter.

"Fat Amy slept with your Grammys. To be honest, she probably stole one."

Beca nodded, remembering. "Yeah, I'll need to follow up on that. But that's besides the point!" She realized how easily Chloe could derail her thoughts. "You shouldn't have gotten me food. I'm going to pay you back for everything you bought. _And_ I refuse any alternative." Chloe's eyes narrowed at her before she gave a stubborn humph. Beca's lip twitched upward. They continued to unload the bags in silence, Beca taking note of all the vegetables that Chloe had implemented. She'll need to donate those to a food pantry or something. The bags were finally unloaded and Beca awkwardly shifted from foot to foot. She didn't know how to talk to people. While she may be famous world-wide, her anxiety still found time to make an appearance.

"So…" she said, her eyes glancing up at Chloe's before darting back down to the ground.

"So…" Chloe repeated, her bright, blue eyes dancing with amusement. Beca hated it.

"What do you want to do or whatever?"

Chloe tapped her chin and hummed. "I don't know about you, but I am exhausted. Netflix and chill?" Chloe winked and slid her shoes off behind the couch. Beca still stood at the bar and blinked a few times before joining the redhead on the couch.

"What do you want to watch?" Beca awkwardly cleared her throat with a sip of her drink. A smooth, controlled burn fell past her lips and she allowed herself to settle into the couch. Chloe sat a respectable distance apart; she was closer than most people would dare, but she left a distance between them. Beca could tell that was meant for her, and she appreciated it. She didn't feel inclined to verbalize it, either. She knew it was a simple kind act, one that Chloe offers everyone, she would assume. That's just how Chloe is.

"Something easy," she replied. Beca's eyebrow twitched but she said nothing. After a few minutes and an agitated huff, Beca decided to put on Frasier. She didn't know what episode she left off, so a random episode was picked. Chloe cocked her head with an incline of her brow.

"Frasier?"

"What's wrong with Frasier?"

"Nothing! Just," Chloe continued to look at her. "I didn't take you for a Frasier fan."

"I don't know," Beca shrugged. "This was my best friend's favorite show. Guess the pompous humor grew on me." Chloe nodded her head and turned back to the TV. It was a good enough show. The episode became more of an afterthought, the laugh track filling the silence. It wasn't necessarily awkward, though. Beca supposed the whole idea of her being famous had something to do with it. This wasn't an everyday occurrence; Beca could understand if she were right. She took another sip of her drink and tried to focus on whatever absurd situation the spin off show created. It was easy enough to follow even though she didn't find it hilarious. It was a good enough show.

"Have you eaten dinner?" Chloe asks after checking the time on her phone. Beca takes a pause before answering.

"I don't know, maybe?" She shrugged; she doesn't really feel hungry these days. Chloe rolls her eyes and stands from the couch. In the second it took for Beca to process her getting up, Chloe had already reached the kitchen. She began rifling through the fridge with her head hidden behind the doors.

"What are you doing?" Beca asked. She tried her best to hide the suspicion from her voice though it wasn't easy. Chloe's blue eyes peeked halfway to meet Beca's with no visible interest. Beca gestured to continue but was easily ignored.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Bec?" The redhead started to pull ingredients from the shelves before searching for the pots and pans. Beca stood, watching her; Chloe couldn't identify exactly the look indicated. Chloe decided to end the semi-awkward moment by answering the question herself. "I'm making dinner. You're not allergic to anything are you?"

"Why are you doing that?" Beca could not understand what her potential agenda could be. If it were money, why was she buying her groceries? If it were sex, she would have tried to sleep with her, and, while she may have flirted, she was never disrespectful. The only other glaring reason is her fame. She remembered dreaming about where she stood now and thinking about how wonderful it would feel. But, as much as Beca wanted to be suspicious, her heart knew Chloe wasn't searching for the limelight. This is what troubled Beca the most.

"Because you need to eat. I doubt you ate at all today which led me to guessing that that isn't an isolated incident." Chloe took pride in her innocent coverup. While she was doing her job and helping people, she sometimes forgets that not everyone enjoys her meddling in their life. Chloe wanted to neglect the part of her that wanted to be around the DJ. If it were anyone else, would she do the same? Of course, if she didn't it would be morally wrong, but the evidence remains: she isn't craving their conversation. Beca clears her throat and Chloe's thoughts came to a screaming halt. A small puff of air blew some stray hairs from her face. Chloe continues to work on dinner while Beca sat down at the bar with a blank face. Chloe turned back around. She finished cooking and gave Beca a plate of mac n cheese (the fancy kind) with a weak smile pulling her lips. The shorter girl continued to stare her down. 'What? Do you not like mac n cheese? If you don't there is something wron- "

"I can't figure you out." Beca cuts her off. "We met yesterday, you stayed the night, and now you cook me dinner? Why?" She didn't realize her right hand tapping the granite This line of questioning is totally warranted and offers a sobering moment in time. It wasn't a movie and it was no way perfect. This lack of trust within Beca wasn't new; she had lost faith in trust a while ago. That outlook has shaped a lot of her opinions, mannerisms, and music.

Chloe placed her palms on the cold countertop and straightened her back. "I don't know," she says honestly. "All I know is that I want to."

Beca pushed her hair back before picking up the fork. "I guess I should eat. It would be a shame to waste it." She dips her head into a quick nod before eating. It wasn't surprising that Chloe was good at cooking. She would be more surprised to see the redhead being bad at something. The sky was black and Beca sighed while sitting on the couch. By this time, Beca had consumed five (maybe six?) drinks. Her words were barely slurred, and she seemed to be functioning well. Chloe kept looking at her with piercing eyes, but the DJ's eyes stayed true to the TV playing The Office now. Chloe has joined her onto the couch, and she yawns into the crook of her elbow. The redhead was closer this time than before. Beca's mind went back to the metronome as an episode played. Something fell onto her shoulder and she realized it was Chloe. She had fallen asleep. She tilted her head towards the shoulder to catch a glimpse at her face. It was so relaxed and peaceful. Beca needed to get up, but she couldn't pull away.

"Thank you. For being you." Beca whispered these words to the shadows on the walls of the living room. Chloe smiled and turned her head to sleep. Beca let her.

* * *

AN: I know its a slow burn, like, slow, but understanding the character and what they say may not be what they feel. Seeing through the smoke and mirrors in a way. If that turns you off from the story, that's totally fine. But I hope to share this journey of psychology with those willing.


	9. Chapter 9: Breezeblocks

AN: Breezeblocks by Alt-J was the main inspiration for this chapter.

* * *

Chapter Nine: Breezeblocks

_The only thing separating the celestial from the condemned is the weight of the world. May Atlas give strength to carry our worlds on our backs and shoulders, to be resilient in the curses of living. But the time has come to watch our Gods fall. The time has come for our burdens to fall on Their shoulders. The time has come to feel paradise._

* * *

A ringing phone punctured the silence. Beca and Chloe sat up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, and looked for the source. Beca felt a sense of relief knowing it wasn't her phone, however, her curiosity peaked for who could possibly be calling Chloe this late. Chloe looked at the screen and released one of the heaviest sighs Beca has heard.

"Do you need to take that?" Beca asked quietly. She's not stupid; a late phone call and a sigh like that meant it was unpleasant. She just didn't know to what extent.

"Yeah," Chloe replies just as quiet. "It's my brother again."

"I can go upstairs-"

"No, no, it's okay," a tired hand combed through strands of matted hair from where she slept on Beca's shoulder. "I'll just step out on the porch. It shouldn't be long."

Beca nodded her head and offered a small smile; it wasn't much- then again, she couldn't really do much- but she hoped it offered a little relief for the kind-eyed redhead. Putting the phone to her ear, Chloe quietly slipped out onto the balcony. Beca averted her eyes from viewing through the glass. Even though she can't hear the conversation, she still wants to give Chloe as much privacy as she can. But curiosity got the better of Beca. Chloe's back was to her, still in her scrubs, still barefoot. Her posture was hunched and tense as her elbows rested on the railing. A few quiet minutes pass before that calm rippled into something larger than Beca could have predicted.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I am not a fucking ATM for you to ruin your life. This was old two months ago. You need fucking help." Her voice was louder than Beca would have ever expected. Her back was so straight and taught that she could practically see her muscles twitching in rage. Her profile shifted ever so to the left allowing the concerned brunette a glimpse of her face. Her eyes were such a clear blue, but the emotion gave them an electric quality; her lips were parted as she panted like the burst of anger had stolen her oxygen. Shaped eyebrows were furrowed so deeply it looked sculpted in marble. The softness that dominated every aspect that Beca believed to exist vanished. It's not that she had unrealistic expectations, she knew nobody was bulletproof, but seeing all traces of that vanish was alarming to her. _She shouldn't be this upset. At all. _

"Tom, when you kill yourself, I won't be surprised. I already mourned your death." This phrase wasn't as loud as before, but you heard it with distinct clarity with every word sharpened. She took the phone from her ear, hung up, and turned to see Beca. She froze in place as she met Beca's steady gaze. Her face was expressionless as she studied her paralyzed body. Clearing her throat uncomfortably, Chloe slowly moved to open the doors and come back inside. Her body was uncomfortably tense, and her neck felt strained. With a slow, deep breath, she joined Beca on the couch.

"How much did you hear?" She was quiet.

"Nothing if you don't want me to." Chloe smiled and chuckled a bit.

"Just family drama."

Beca nodded and turned to face the TV. It was deeper than that, but if Chloe didn't want to go into specifics, she wouldn't ask. But she knew something she _could_ ask.

"Are you okay?" Beca celebrated internally when it came out even and calm. Chloe looked up at her, the DJ noting that some of the ice had melted. The redhead offered a tired smile in return.

"Mostly just frustrated," she said honestly which surprised her. "But I'll be okay. Thank you."

Beca nodded before deciding to speak again. "You were there with me last night, so I should be here for you tonight. Quid pro quo," she winked and nudged her shoulder. The normalcy after a moment like that is something Beca craved when it happened to her. She hoped that it would dull the anger flowing through her veins. Chloe rolled her eyes and Beca felt a little better that she wouldn't snap in half. "It's getting late, are you okay to drive home? Not that you need to leave right now," she quickly corrected. "But just in case. I know you work."

"Wow, are you actually being nice to me?" She held her palm on her cheek in disbelief. Beca rolled her eyes but didn't respond. "I think I should get out of your hair."

"Don't feel pressured to leave if you aren't feeling up to it. You can stay and relax if you need to." Beca was wondering where all this honesty was coming from. _Not honesty, unfiltered_.

"Are we suddenly besties, now? I knew we were going to be fast friends."

"I mean, you've been in my bed…so…"

Chloe swatted her arm and settled back into the couch. "I really appreciate you, Bec. You're a good person."

That brought a blush to Beca's cheeks and she averted her eyes. She gets complimented all the time-being famous and all- but rarely do any feel genuine. Chloe, in her glory, believed in honesty. So Beca knew she wasn't bullshitting. Which was as alarming as her thoughts from earlier. "I mean, you've shown me nothing but irritating kindness. The least I can do is offer less irritating niceness, even if you suddenly infected my life." That seemed distant enough while being nice. That was good. Distance was good.

"You know what I need, right now?" Beca hummed in response. "A drink." Chloe then got up and proceeded to grab a glass and the bottle of Grey Goose to the living room. Beca knew how therapeutic it could be sometimes, so she didn't question it. Chloe poured a shot, drank it, poured another, then topped off Beca's glass. "Never drink alone."

"Well, now you made me feel like shit for drinking alone."

"Fine, just invite me over then."

Beca twitched then downed the rest of her drink to forget that statement. This isn't going to be a regular thing, was it? Chloe's fascination with Beca was extremely puzzling and extremely frustrating. She grabbed the bottle, poured another, then did the same to Chloe's now empty glass. Chloe nodded in thanks and lifted the glass in front of her.

"Here's to drinking for no other reason than to drink!" She then clinked Beca's glass and slid the vodka past her lips. She barely grimaced and that bought the DJ's respect. She tipped her glass in acknowledgment before doing the same. The tv was still on and they continued this routine of sharing between them for a few minutes. After an episode, the alcohol was starting to hit them.

"Hey Becs?" Chloe leaned toward her on the couch. She didn't wait long for Beca to respond before she answered her own question. "So, like, you and Anastasia are a thing,"

"Was a thing."

"You and Anastasia were a thing," she corrected. "Are you fully gay or do you swing both ways? Oh my god that was so invasive ignore me I can't believe I just- "

"I don't like labels. I like who I like," she responded with a crooked smile. Chloe looked relieved that she wasn't upset and Beca saw her shoulders lose tension. Her cheeks were flushed from the many drinks they had consumed, and her eyes were glassy, pools of sapphires behind the slightest shimmer of inhibition. "If you get to know about me, I get to know about you. You like pussy?" Chloe choked on her drink and her face became redder.

"I mean I-" The redhead sputtered but was desperately grabbing for a recovery. "I guess I am the same way. I've had boyfriends and a few girlfriends. They never lasted that long though."

"Why's that? Probably because you steal people's phones in their sleep and steal private information. But that's just a hunch." Chloe slapped her shoulder and tried not to laugh. Beca looked at her, actually looked, and processed her features: the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, the way her lips looked better pulled back, how her nostrils would flare trying to hold back laughter. The blood rushing into her expression made her more vibrant, more alive. She may be drunk, but she knows the difference between real beauty and store bought.

"Hello?"

Beca blinked and was brought back to sitting on the couch, watching tv, and sharing a drink with a stranger. Present in the moment, focus regained. "What's up?"

Chloe just tilted her head curiously. "You were staring."

"No I wasn't."

"Yes, you were."

"You're drunk."

"And you're full of shit."

Beca huffed. Chloe continued to stare.

"See something you like?" Chloe flirted and blinked behind lashes in exaggerated interest. "You know, I'm pretty confident about all of this."

"I can tell," Beca drawled. Chloe laughed and poured Beca another shot.

Chloe's face was flushed; she felt a welcome warmth in her arms and legs that tingled until her skin was covered in bumps. Beca had been staring at her. That's fine. _It's totally fine_. Maybe she had something on her face? Oh no, what if her mascara was smeared? _Jesus, when did that matter?_ Whatever. She was drunk. When did she get so close to Beca's face? _Oh my god, I can see her freckles!_ _Oh god, I can see her freckles._

"Are you feeling okay?" Beca asks, drifting centimeters to separate their personal space. They shared the same breath. Chloe nodded, her eyes drifting shut. Her breath was the faintest wind onto Beca's skin. Through the puff of air, the brunette closed her eyes. She couldn't feel more than the pulsing of her heart. Her eyes slowly open, the focus of her eyes unclear until a moment after. "Chloe?" Beca asked, pulling away with furrowed brows. Steel interrupted glazed lazulines. "Chloe?" Beca whispered. Chloe ignored it, feeling each puff of air from the DJ infecting her lungs. This felt too beautiful, too enjoyable. _Intoxicating_. The seconds ticked by while her lips drifted closer. "Chloe," the DJ breathed.

_Lean back. Lean. Back. LEAN. BACK._

Beca couldn't think. She had been drinking. Obviously. But why did she stay connected to Chloe's lungs like it was their only chance of filling? Why couldn't she break these unpredicted shackles? Gravity. That had to be the reason. There was _no other option_ as far as she was concerned. Yes. That was logical.

"Beca?" Chloe breathed, her voice barely teasing her ears.

"What are you doing?"

"I see something I like." The vodka painting her lips seemed to be the roughest part of Chloe. It permeated the space between them, but Beca knew she wasn't much better. They were drunk. You could smell it. It was the perfect ruse. She could hide behind this; no one had to know. No one had to know how badly you wanted to reach out and tangle your hands in her hair. No one had to know how badly you wanted to feel how soft her skin was. No one had to know she needed to taste how the alcohol pierced her breath. _No one will know_. Dark blue eyes lined with black peered under thick lashes to see Chloe's eyes had drifted closed and her hand had snuck onto Beca's knee. _Breathe._ A thick wall of tension nipped at the skin of the brunette as she remained frozen. Vodka was now thrumming through her veins; she couldn't claim sobriety anymore. Fire was rushing into her blood and her mind succumbed to its power. Her lips collided into Chloe's with more force than she was expecting, the redheads mouth parting in surprise. Their breaths had melted into one another the minute they touched. Pale hands found their way to Chloe's shoulders, one finding purchase cupping her jaw. As greedy as she was, she refused to grip her as hard as she wanted. Not to Chloe.

But Chloe pushed back, and she pushed back _hard_.

The redhead placed her palms onto Beca's chest and shoved her down onto the couch. Brown waves cascaded over the fabric and crowned a flushed DJ sporting swollen lips. Her chest was pulling oxygen like she had never breathed before. Chloe smirked down, loving the idea that her kiss created a panting woman underneath her. She was sinking in the satisfaction of knowing Beca enjoyed it just as much as she did. _God, that felt good_. She wanted-no_, needed_\- more. So, she was going to get it. Her legs moved to straddle the small woman as her body descended slowly to tip her head. She felt small puffs of hair hit her lips and she teased them with small dips. Beca's eyes opened and she saw a wildfire that she had never seen in the time she's spent. Liquid silver danced in her irises and fixed themselves onto Chloe's. The stare searched deep within her and Chloe felt exposed, not only her body, but her soul. She doubted Beca was aware of the power lurking in her expression, and if she was, then she was hiding it incredibly well. The redhead reveled in its intensity and couldn't fathom experiencing it if she got the chance. She would flip that coin until it happened. Until then, the string tugging their lips together became stronger and she found herself engaged in a battle she didn't intend on losing. Trying to separate the sensations was almost impossible. Teeth caught lips, tongues danced in the fading flames of vodka, and Chloe only pulled away to breathe when she saw stars dotting her vision. This taste, this feeling, was the most addictive substance she had ever touched. She finally knew how crippling that craving is. It flooded her mind and every sense she had left. She needed Beca so bad it _hurt. _"Fuck," she sighed and pulled away.

"I don't, I- I can't think- If don't know what to sa- "

"So don't say anything." Beca looked like she wanted to protest but swallowed any attempt. Chloe grabbed her hair and pulled before she could try again. Beca immediately molded against her lips and she closed her eyes when the DJ's hands began to travel the front of her shirt. She rubbed the smallest circles onto your skin, and you felt a jolt from her teasing. Beca tipped her lips away to shakily exhale in anticipation. Chloe opens her eyes and feels Beca staring before she saw it. "Unless you're not enjoying it," she pouts, purses her lips, and sits back on her legs instead of hovering over the brunette. Beca's eyes bore into your teasing face; for the first time, Chloe understood she was playing with a live wire. She had no clue how close she could get without frying.

"Look at me." Chloe obeyed; her eyes locked onto hers. "Answer me honestly."

"Of course," she breathed. The brunette was still staring into her.

"If this is about my status, in any capacity, then walk out that door and delete my number, or face legal action."

Chloe's eyebrows lowered into a scowl. "You really think I'm here to play some game?" Her voice lost the teasing lilt. While she may be unhappy, her voice sounded softer than her phone call, however, her voice was painted in tender strokes. Scowling eyebrows with twinkling eyes, soft lips, and hurt feelings. It felt all too much like high school. Why were the stakes so high? Why did she give a shit about this drunken celebrity? _This is fucking high school_. Her hurt slowly took back its angry energy as her spine straightened completely. She now towered over the brunette and was encased in tense knots. "I don't play games. I want you to fuck me. We're drunk, I'm horny, and you're the one who kissed me first. So, you either fuck me, or you don't. Your choice."

"What makes you think I want to _fuck you, _Red?" Beca replied defensively as her torso began rising up, her posture supported by her elbows. Chloe's eyes were closed but they quickly reopened with a small sigh. Her left hand reached out to land next to Beca's side, the right following, respectively. Each tick in her head was overwhelmed with murmurs of 'Chloe, Chloe. Chloe,' with her heart echoing back. The redhead was dipping down, her back arched. Where was the line drawn between sobriety and inebriated? Regardless of the alcohol, the kiss would have still burned. She was a wildfire to Beca and Beca wanted so badly to dive in. But what would that burn cost? More than she was willing to give. The thoughts were gathering within a cyclone and gaining momentum. The winds grew stronger and she was left to hold on. _Stop thinking. Breathe. Fucking _breathe. Chloe was right: she had two choices. _Don't think about it,_ her head finally whispered. _Just do it._

Chloe squeaked as the brunette shot forward and captured her lips in a sloppy kiss. Small but strong arms had wrapped around her torso and cushioned her back as they landed. Beca was frenzied; her lips never stopped licking, nipping, or biting while her hands had tasked themselves with trying to fit as much of Chloe's hair in one hand. A demanding tug drew a whimper from puffy lips that were desperately trying to match pace. The redhead didn't know what switch had flipped to have garnered this reaction, but she was fucking _loving_ it. Every pull of her hair and every bruise bitten into her neck had Chloe clawing into Beca's shoulder; she felt one of her nails catch in a distressed part of her t shirt, and, before she even realized, she had made a bigger tear. The only word she could use to describe the noise that left Beca's lips was just short of a growl; she pulled her lips away from her neck and hissed as Chloe's nails drew red, angry lines at her still fully clothed back. Eyes fluttered closed when Beca's lips found her pulse point. "Fuck," she whined. No matter how many times she gasped for air, the burning ache in her lungs persisted.

Almost as quickly as Beca had ensnared your lips, she was across the other side of the couch, her chest heaving. Her lips were swollen, her hair was the richest of chocolate browns woven into intimate and erratic strands, and her smudged eyeliner framed unsettled eyes. Chloe barely had the time to catch her breath.

"We should stop." Her voice was strained, as if she were lifting weights.

"Why? I thought you were enjoying it. I'm sorry-"

"No, no," Beca sighed. "You're a good person, Chlo. I don't want to screw up any friendship we might have. You don't want someone like me around."

"Last I checked, it's the 21st century and I can make choices for myself. You don't get to tell me if I want you around or not. I like seeing you. I want to see more of you. I don't care that you're famous, I don't care you have money, I don't care about any of that. I just want to talk to Beca. Just Beca."

Beca looked up to meet her eyes and she found nothing but shimmering honesty. Beca smiled at the corners of her mouth. "If that's the case, I think we should forget what just happened."

Her chest hurt. She did her best to breathe through her nose, but any movement caused a stabbing sensation. _Forget what happened_. That's fine, that's fine right? _We were drunk._

_Forget what happened. _She knew she couldn't forget. Her memory was forever tattooed in the paradise of Chloe Beale. But this wasn't about her. Chloe was good. She wouldn't ruin that. She couldn't ruin that.


	10. Chapter 10: Ally

Chapter Ten

* * *

"So, the girls and I are going to Ember tonight and you have no excuse not to come. You've been dodging us for at least a week now. And don't say you have work; we took your schedule from Jane. One look at Aubrey and it was in our hands, its crazy how convenient a bitch in a pantsuit can be."

"Stacie, its not that I don't want to see the girls-"

"No, no, no, don't start that bullshit. You're coming. No excuse. We will show up to your apartment if you don't show up. Your choice."

The line clicked and Chloe slowly lowered her phone. This was fine. She was fine. Sure, she may have been avoiding them a little bit, but she was busy! She had a life; she couldn't constantly go out like them. Between work and Tom, she was constantly torn in her schedule. The time she spent with Beca, talking to Beca, getting lunch with Beca, joking with Beca, flirting with Beca- no, not flirting, they were just friends.

_Forget what happened_.

Chloe takes a sigh and sits on the couch, her back sinking into the worn knitted blanket draped on the couch. She remembered when she got it. Freshman year: her mom helping move into Webber hall, room 824. It was a double; her roommate Hailey had already arrived and filled her half of the dorm with Britney Spears posters. That didn't bother Chloe, even if it was a little odd. _I mean, it's Britney, bitch._ She was nice enough; they didn't have much of a relationship. Hailey was absent as she and her mother worked at turning a depressing dorm room into a temporary home. As Chloe folded clothes into her dresser, her mother had tapped her shoulder. In her hands was a lavender, blue, and white throw. The strands were woven together and as soft as a cloud. Bright blue eyes, glassy with tears, met the same shade of blue, except this shade was wise, full of experience. Her mother, greying hair, wrinkles stemming from her eyes made from years of laughter. There was rarely a moment where Chloe didn't see her mother smile. She smiled then, albeit sadly, but it was a smile, nonetheless. Her lower lip trembled as she clutched the blanket with as much intensity as she did with tenderness. One shaky breath, two, and a third until her solemn face gave way to a watery grin.

"Mom…" Her voice shook as well as her head.

"I know, sweetheart. I know. But now isn't for crying, I need to make sure this place isn't like a prison. Although hopefully you won't be spending too much time here…"

"Mom!"

"I meant the library don't think so dirty!"

Chloe laughed, rubbing the remnants of sadness from her eyes. Her mother hid the sadness well.

"I'm gonna miss you, mama." Her head dipped down, and she tried desperately to bury the sob thrumming in her chest. She felt two delicate fingers bring her head back up.

"This isn't goodbye, baby. I'll see you soon."

Chloe heard that voice in her head echoing around; it became too loud, so she stood from the couch and entered her room. Her messages contained the details of the night from Aubrey. Meet up at Ember by 8pm. Wear as few clothes as possible. That part was definitely Stacie. Okay, that's not so bad. She could do this. Opening her closet, she reached into the back-left corner and brought them closer to the front. She had a plethora of scandalous clothing from college, but the numbers dwindled as time went on. _That's fine_, she thought. _I made out with a famous DJ in my scrubs, I think I'm fine. _Fuck. _Forget about it._

The time passed slowly, mostly spent eyeing the clock until she couldn't stall getting ready any longer. With years of experience, she quickly applied a darker shade than her normal eyeshadow and wore something much more provocative than the pajamas she wanted to don. It's not that she didn't want to see the girls, in fact she knew it would do her some good. But right now, all she wanted to do, was lay in bed and forget the days keep passing. She felt so old, so run down; the constant worry and stress, it was exhausting. She reluctantly checked the time and saw she needed to order the Uber. She had only few precious minutes for herself until her heels were placed on her feet and her smile tattooed to her face. The ride was quick and quiet and for that, she gave a decent tip.

"Thank god, I really didn't want to sick Amy on you." Stacie drawled outside the entrance to the bar. Instead of her usual cocktail dress, she wore a fitted pantsuit with the blazer buttoned at the front, hiding the lack of a shirt. A lovely lace bralette complemented the smooth, tan skin exposed.

"Hey Stace, it's great to see- "

"Cut the shit, Beale. You've been dodging us for almost two weeks. I'll save you the shake down for now but trust me when I say Aubrey is going to give you the worst interrogation of your life." With that, she turned around and entered the bar, leaving Chloe to trail behind. The girls were gathered at the bar and currently ordering drinks, but their attention immediately turned to Stacie with a guilty looking redhead. Aubrey's glare only intensified this feeling.

"I'm sorry, guys; I've just had a lot going on, with Tom being Tom, I don't know. How can I make it up to you guys?"

"Well, for starters, you can owe us a drink," Amy rubs her fingers together expecting to be compensated and exaggerates a wink. Chloe glanced at her but paid her no mind.

"How about we start drinking so we can forget about you being a shitty friend for a bit." Aubrey finishes it with an overly cheery smile coupled it with stern eyes. One look and Chloe knew she was in for it. Which is absolutely ridiculous to Chloe; she's an adult. The rest of the girls took Aubrey's word to heart and ordered a round of shots with strict instructions to have the second round ready to fill their glasses. Chloe smiled as the girls around her bustled to a good position, yet she never felt Aubrey's gaze leave her head.

"One, two, Three!" She tilted the glass and allowed whatever alcohol inside past her lips. The grimace burned in her chest, but she smiles at her friends around her. Her gaze locks with Stacie's; one of her eyebrows is raised. Chloe was beginning to get uncomfortable between the deadlock gaze of two _very_ intimidating women. She took the second shot and began to prepare for the impending conversation. She set the glass down and gestured toward a booth. The two women began their prowl.

"Spill," was the only thing that left Aubrey's lips. Chloe took a deep sigh.

"I don't know what you want me to say," she began quietly and took a sip from her vodka soda. "I wasn't lying about Tom. He called me the other night…he was asking for money. On mom's birthday. On her fucking birthday."

"Why didn't you tell us? We know you. You wouldn't want to be alone."

"I mean I wasn't alone but-" _Shit._

"So, Tom called on your mother's birthday, asking for more money, and you weren't alone," Stacie repeats.

"…yes."

Aubrey merely stared and sipped her drink. She raised her eyebrow as an indication to continue.

Chloe took a bigger gulp of her drink before evading the questions. "I was with Beca." They stared. "After I got off my shift, I went to her apartment. We just watched Netflix; I promise." She did her best to keep her tone light and unassuming. Aubrey sniffed before Stacie decided to respond.

"You're omitting the _chill_ part. Doesn't she have a girlfriend?"

"We didn't! God no! And they're complicated, I mean you saw her that one night, but we don't know what happens behind closed doors."

"I see," Stacie replied.

Aubrey, on the other hand, hadn't even started her round. And so, the bell rang. "Give me your phone."

"What? Absolutely not!" Chloe's heart was beginning to race. When would the alcohol kink in? She looked to Stacie to back her up, but she was picking her nails like she was bored. _Bitch_.

"If you have nothing to hide, you will. And if you lie to me Chloe Elizabeth Beale, I _will_ find out.

The rapid beat of her heart made its way into her ears. _Forget what happened_. She can't lie to Aubrey, but what happened _didn't_. She had to give those words truth for her own sanity. But it did happen. She can lie all she wants, but it happened. How could she even begin? She knew Aubrey and Stacie better than anyone; they'll think Beca is toying with her and its all a game, but Chloe knows better. They haven't spent time with her to know she is a genuine person: that she's kind, respectful, witty. Beca may be famous, but she didn't let the industry change her; Chloe couldn't defend the DJ's image- not until she came clean.

"The night we had VIP's, when I stayed over, I put my number in her phone. We have been texting on and off and," she surrendered with a sigh. "and its been nice. She doesn't know me, or Tom, or _anything_... She doesn't ask questions, we can sit in silence comfortably, I can forget about what it's like being Chloe Beale." There. Cat's out of the bag. _Forget what happened_. She smiled sadly into her drink and finished it.

"Has it occurred to you, at all," Aubrey began, "that she doesn't ask questions because she's taking advantage of you? Chloe, I love you dearly, but come _on_. Let's be realistic here." Chloe fixed her gaze on the blonde; if there's anything Aubrey can do, she can cut Chloe down. And she does it well.

"What Aubrey means to say," Stacie joined Aubrey in the ring, "is that this doesn't happen every day. The last thing we want is to watch you get hurt by a dick with fancy figurines." Chloe nodded. She had gotten used to filtering Aubrey's jabs into what she really means. Aubrey loves her, Chloe would bet her life on it, but her constant need to know every detail of her life was beginning to irritate her. Her overprotectiveness stemmed from watching Chloe's family disappear in her life; she would be the one that looked after her.

"I know this is some weird, bizarre fluke, but I don't want to think of the consequences. Not now, not when I could use a break from the shitshow. I hope you guys can respect that."

The two girls looked at each other hesitantly but ultimately decided to drop it. The redhead had survived with only scrapes to show. They all agreed to head back to the bar and join the rest of the group for drinks. Amy had left (which Chloe guiltily admitted she was grateful for), but the rest remained. They were reasonably intoxicated by the time Aubrey, Chloe, and Stacie got their drinks. She took her phone and glanced at the time noticing that she had a message from the devil themselves.

**Beca:**_ I'm bored._

Her lip quirked and decided to respond.

**Chloe:** _sounds like a personal problem_

**Chloe:** _I'm out with the girls_

Beca's response came immediately.

**Beca: **_is Amy there? I think she stole one of my Grammys'_

**Chloe:** _how about u just earn another one, rock star?_

**Beca:** _how about u just cure cancer, nurse ratched_

**Beca:** _but seriously, I'm bored. Come over?_

Chloe was pulled out of her phone by Stacie clearing her throat. The redhead was caught red-handed. The flush of alcohol and bashfulness dusted her skin; thankfully, Stacie winked at her.

"Go on, I know you want to. I'll cover Aubrey."

"You're an angel, Stace," Chloe cried giving her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. With that, she walked out of the bar and ordered an Uber.

* * *

Beca regret sending that text. She sounded needy. She _hated_ needy. So, she sat on the balcony with her journal in hand, watching the night light up with the mosaic of a polluted skyline. The day had been rough. Her mind had not stopped repeating the mantra since the moment she woke up: _forget what happened_. It kept going while arriving at work. _Forget what happened_. It continued coming home. _Forget what happened_. It didn't let up until she poured a drink and began to write. Her mind was raging, but it soon fell away into the pages.

_This is a testament of pain and sadness, a collection of pretty fragments, a tribute. You won't see it like that, though. I don't think anyone will. The words aren't what you want to read, want to hear. A letter unaddressed, a letter unopened. That's all it will ever be…so I guess that spares you the heartache. When did the line between living and dying become so hazy?_

Her pen paused when she heard a quiet knock from inside. _Chloe_, she thought. And so, the mantra returned.

"Hey!" She replied cheerfully and stepped into the apartment.

It took everything in Beca to keep her mouth from dropping. She knew Chloe had been out before coming, but it didn't occur to Beca that she would be _dressed_ like she had gone out. The brunette's eyes were glued to the white dress that was barely at her knees. It was lowcut and she refused to stare at her tits like a twelve-year-old pervert no matter how much she wanted to. _Forget what happened. _"Hey," she cleared her throat. "How was your night out?"

Chloe laughed and stared at the DJ. "That hardly counts as a night out; I was barely out for 2 hours. What have you been doing to occupy yourself?"

"Dude, why do you think I texted you? I'm bored." Beca had yet to fully look at Chloe and she averted her eyes every time she had the opportunity. _Forget what happened_. The tall, black heels that she wore caught the brunette's eye and tricked her into following toned calves all the way up to blue eyes. _Forget what happened._

"I feel overdressed now," Chloe awkwardly laughed and pushed a stray strand of auburn behind her ear shyly.

Her lips betrayed her. "I think you're beautiful." Chloe turned her head with her eyes full of shock. "I mean, I'm sure all of you looked good. At the club. Bar. Whatever. Where did you end up going, by the way?" _Good save, Mitchell. You're doing_ fantastic.

"Some bar called 'Ember'. Have you heard of it?"

"Yeah, the one off of Temple Street?" Chloe nodded her head, sitting down to take her shoes off. Tan, sculpted legs crossed at the knee and the already short dress had risen even further up her thigh. "You know, its funny," she said. Chloe hummed in response and smoothly shifted which leg was on top. "There was a bar called 'Ember' in Orlando. I knew a lot of people who went there. Was a decent place."

"That's interesting," Chloe smiled at her with her eyes twinkling and all Beca could do was offer a weak one in return. "Well, I'm here now. What did you want to do?"

_Shit_. Beca didn't think this through. Was she supposed to have planned something? "Uhh, did you want to do anything specific?"

"Nope!" Why was she making this so difficult?

"I'm down to watch a movie," she finally supplied. "If you want."

Chloe easily agreed and they made their way to the couch. You could fit the duration of the film in the time spent trying to pick something. At this point, Beca would rather watch My Little Pony than to spend one more minute deciding what they wanted to watch.

"For fuck's sake, pick something I don't even care anymore," Beca exclaimed and shoved the remote into Chloe's hands. Chloe raised an eyebrow while she huffed in return. The redhead silently took the remote and scrolled until she found The Little Mermaid.

"Wow, the similarity is uncanny," a sarcastic drawl filled the room as the overture played from the speakers. And this is how the movie went; Chloe watched the movie attentively until Beca made a remark that broke her concentration. These interjections stopped completely when Chloe began to sing. To say the heavens opened was a gross understatement. She had been submerged in water until she heard Chloe's siren song; she could hear the music clearer than ever as it emerged from her lungs. The DJ kept quiet, trying her best to remain unphased. Every syllable was melting into the air to bathe the room in ethereal peace. Beca was so captivated, so entranced by each melody twisting and braiding into a noose that she didn't realize the song had ended. Chloe was looking at her with a confused, but relaxed smile. "You sing." It wasn't a question. They both knew the answer.

"I do." And they fell back into the rhythm of quips and barely contained laughter.

Beca was observant, though, more than you think. And the distance put between them was bigger than previous. It shouldn't bother Beca. She was the one who said to forget, after all. Her twitching fingers, however, told a different story. The dress was still high up on her thighs, her hair was still cascading past her shoulders, her makeup was still perfectly dramatic, and that's when Beca knew. There was no forgetting. You don't forget someone like Chloe Beale.

The movie ended and they had both disarmed some of the walls from their initial greeting. Beca was in the kitchen fixing a drink while Chloe had stretched across the couch to scroll on her phone. Dark blue eyes once again raked over her unassuming figure. _Forget what happened_.

"Hey Becs?" She says, her head poking up from behind the cushion.

"Yeah?" She calls back while rummaging through the fridge; quiet clicks of glass accompanied a distracted tapping on the handle of the appliance.

"It was my mother's birthday the other night."

The tapping suddenly stopped and Beca stepped away from the doors. She understood. Chloe had spent that night with her. It was her mother's birthday when she received the call that proved she held depth behind her bright smile. She had spent it with her. And Beca felt that gravity, the tug of blind trust Chloe had displayed.

"Today marks 4 years I lost my best friend."

Chloe looked at her without judgement or pity. She exuded a calm that Beca was deprived of all day.

Chloe was smart, though, more than you would think. The pieces fell together, the timeline manifested before her eyes. Each breadcrumb the brunette unconsciously dropped began to take shape into a horror she wished she could forget.

The date was June 12th.

She has been on medication since 2016.

She is from Orlando.

"Oh, god," she whispered.

Without a word, she clutched Beca in strong, but troubled, arms. The brunette didn't say anything.

She just held on twice as strong.

* * *

**AN:** I've been naming some of the chapters after songs that I have inspiration from. This chapter was influenced by the song Ally from We the Kings. As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated and I hope you are all staying safe and healthy. -vanguard


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